Fate Unleashed
by darkdruid01
Summary: Set two and a half years after the end of Inheritance. Eragon and Saphira have found a home for the Order, but chilling premonitions weigh on their daily lives. Can a certain she-elf and her dragon be of any help - one they haven't seen in nearly three years? And when the new Riders do arrive, the threat that looms will show itself - from an unexpected place, and a forgotten war.
1. Prologue in Two Parts

**Prologue I**

**Arya**

Dusk fell on the leafy boughs of Du Weldenvarden, and Arya Dröttning's mood complemented the evening fog. She waited for Fírnen on the Crags of Tel'nair, brooding with the sunset's last russet streaks. A pattering of rain kissed her face, but the clouds were not yet upon her – she had time enough to escape the oncoming storm. Cradled in her hands was a fairth. It showed a young man with dark hair, roguish for an elf but beautiful to any human. Behind him crouched a strikingly blue dragon at the height of its prime. The magical drawing was meticulously detailed; its lines precise as an arrow's flight.

After a long moment, Arya impulsively half-turned and threw the slate to the ground, letting it shatter on the rocks. Her brows furrowed, a hurt expression on her face. So troubled was she that she did not notice Fírnen, who had been hunting, until he was right next to her and his mind touched hers.

_Why did you break it? _the emerald dragon asked calmly, his mental voice as deep as an ocean.

_Because it hurts, _thought Arya. _Isn't that obvious?_

Fírnen opened his mouth in a great yawn, fangs clicking together as he did so. He had grown twice again the size he had been almost two and a half years ago, when _they_ had left. _You can't go on denying it. To ignore one's problems –_

_-is not to solve them, _Arya finished. _I know. _She sighed heavily. Two years should be no more than a minute to an elf. _So why have these felt so long?_

_You miss him, _Fírnen reasoned. _And I miss her._

The elf stood and approached the dragon, leaning against the scales of his foreleg gently. _You ate well? _she asked, trying to change the subject.

_As usual. Did any –_

_No. Even after completing the exchange twice, the two eggs still have not hatched. Orik and Garzhvog are perplexed by their stagnant nature._

_Maybe we should send for more._

_Fírnen…_

_It's been a while since you wrote to him anyway! I'm sure he's busy, _he added hastily. _If he weren't I'm sure he'd contact us._

Arya pressed her face to his scales. _Perhaps you're right._

Fírnen rumbled. _"Perhaps" has to be the most-often-thought-of word in your mind, Arya._

She blinked. _I cannot help but think of what might have been._

_Nor can I help having visions of such forced upon me each night with increasing detail. _The gleam in his huge eyes was so victoriously humorous that is was hard to become angry.

_Come on, O Insufferable One, _thought Arya. _If we need more eggs, we shall have to mail-order them._

**Prologue II**

**Eragon**

After two and a half years, what could be called a castle now stood in the plateaus east of Alegaësia, in the mountain range Du Fells Yawë that ringed a fjord connected to the Az Ragni. Eragon and the thirty elves – Blöhdgarm's spellcasters plus the crew of the _Talíta_ – had beached their ship and raised a settlement there. The beach took to rocky hills rather quickly, and inside the slope of the mountains a network of caverns stored the eggs and dormant Eldunarí. Above these heated vaults was a fortress jutting out of the cliff faces. It rivaled the halls of Vroengard in size, but no matter how much it was refined over the building process it had always seemed to Eragon that a grander building should stand where this rough-cut stronghold was. The castle worked around the cliffs with rooms and towers sprouting in three directions. The fourth, directly behind the structure, was the back of an overhang. The overhang itself hung above a field, accessible by a tunnel through the base of the rock formation.

The elves preferred to sing themselves houses in the forest nearby, but they helped use magic to build the Riders' citadel. Their gramarye and the Eldunarí's power had been indispensable – without these, the castle would have taken nearly a decade to raise. Eragon and Saphira alone would not have been fast or powerful enough. But with them, two years and five months had passed and now the castle was complete. In that time, Eragon had little contact with his friends and family. He occasionally scried with Roran, Nasuada, or Orik, while Arya he kept in contact with through infrequent letters due to the elven forest's wards against scrying. He tried to keep busy, but secretly he wished to see them all again in person. If only he could return…

But the eggs were not safe here, even with the elves and Cuaroc to protect them. Strange things had happened since their arrival in the easterling lands. For instance, a number of curious creatures had been encountered by Eragon and Saphira. In the river, several tentacle creatures nearly the size of a Nïdwhal had tried to capsize the boat. only fire could dissuade them. Additionally, a number of Fanghur inhabited the mountains, possibly having migrated from the Beors. One night Eragon had awoken to mysterious scratching noises and found a spider as large as a hunting hound climbing across his window. Although Saphira assured him that she would eat theses and any more besides that they found, Eragon was nervous. He had yet to understand the squids, and the spider's mind had been full of pure, hungry malevolence. If a baby dragon or even the eggs ran afoul of these beings somehow, something terrible could happen. Even after all of these hostile animals, Eragon sometimes felt tiny movements in the magic around him that set him on edge. Something dangerous always seemed close, but he could never pinpoint it. Most of the time he was able to tune it out or ignore it, but at night or whenever he was vulnerable, it gnawed at his conscience.

Always, though, his mind would turn back to Alegaësia, and his life in the west, and how much he missed all of his comrades from the War. Blöhdgarm, Yaela, and the rest of the elves were there, but after months turned into years their company began to pall. Although he knew and liked them as friends, Eragon longed to see a human, dwarf, or Urgal… or at least someone he was better acquainted with and understood. Still, what time he spent with them proved pleasant, and for the most part he was able to keep busy.

The Rider himself lived in the empty fortress with Saphira, who could come and go as she pleased thanks to a series of dragon-portals stylized after the elven Riders' houses in Ellesméra. Not only were they shielded by magic from weather, but they could also open and close with the traditional screens to prevent the rooms from feeling or looking too exposed. These portals allowed dragons to enter and exit the buildings at all points of interest, and were just one in a series of accommodating features that would come in handy while raising a brood of young dragons.

Eragon sat in his just-finished quarters, also made to imitate his house in Ellesméra. Saphira was curled on an enormous cushion, a furnishing she insisted on, and Eragon rested his back against her flank, writing thoughtfully on a scrap of parchment. The dark wood paneling was half illuminated by a crackling fire in the corner, and as the sky dimmed outside, the room began to glow. Eragon abruptly crumpled the paper and threw it into the flames, sighing indignantly.

_Well? _said Saphira's voice in his head.

_Well what?_

_You've been on that letter for hours. What's keeping you? _She blew a gentle puff of smoke from her nostrils.

_Arya asked for more eggs. Three more, after we had discussed teaching five at a time._

_So?_

_I'm going to transport them to her by magic tomorrow._

_So?_

_So I'm trying to write her back!_

_So write that you'll send them tomorrow._

_And how is that supposed to answer her inquiries about our health, the castle, the eggs, the Eldunarí, and the elves? _He rapped his stylus on the floor. _What am I supposed to say, that we're fine? Because I'm not. Should I be ashamed that I already want to go back? Why can't I just say what I'm feeling without feeling rotten about it?_

_Are we worrying about pushing someone away? _Saphira asked knowingly.

_More than we already have? _Eragon ran his fingers through his hair. _You tell me. you're in my head._ He paused. _I just wish – _

_I know._

_There has to be some kind of loophole. There's always one._

_Stop messing yourself over it or you'll get sick again. _

_I'm already sick,_ Eragon decided. _I need to see my friends again. And to do that, I have to come to them… or they'll have to come to me._


	2. Chapter One: The Next Generation

**Chapter One: The Next Generation**

**Eragon**

A bright flash lit up the cave with brilliant blue. Eragon felt the usual drop in his stamina and the transportation spell ended. _Nicely done, _said Glaedr in his mind. _Hopefully their arrival won't trigger an explosion this time._

_You told me that happens to everyone on the first try! _complained Eragon.

_Indeed, but not everyone sets their destination aflame the second and third times. _There was a note of humor in the gold dragon's voice.

The human shrugged. _Maybe I'm just cursed to set things on fire all the time. Brisingr could be proof of that._

_More likely, the word "Brisingr" is somewhere in your sword's true name. Listen, I'm sure I've told you this before, _rumbled Glaedr as Eragon walked out of the vaults into the noonday sun. The crystal blue water of the fjord sparkled like fool's gold under the light.

Umaroth entered the conversation. _Since we are speaking of names, there might be a certain way that you can return to Alegaësia._

Eragon scratched at his gedwëy ignasia absentmindedly. _Do tell._

_Since that fortune was cast, your true name – and that of Alegaësia itself – has changed. you are no longer the same person, and it is no longer the same place._

_It could be so, _the Rider admitted. _But I can't leave the eggs until there's a way to keep them safe, and for that I need to know what's out there. I need new Riders._

_In that case, once the eggs you sent hatch, we'd better begin training them right away, _advised Glaedr.

By now Eragon was ascending the stone steps to the castle, and he turned the corner to climb another staircase to his tower. Saphira was gone, probably out hunting as she was wont to do. He threw himself into a chair and picked at a leftover crust of bread on the desk, puckish from his magic use. A glass mirror that hung on the wall rippled, and an image of the citadel at Ilirea appeared. Nasuada was staring intently at Eragon. "You're early," he said, smiling. Usually they scried only once or twice every month or so.

"Two of the eggs have hatched," she said breathlessly, dark braids tangling around her darker face. "To humans I just got word." The glitter in her brown eyes and the youthful excitement she projected erased the past few years from her presence.

Eragon leaned forward. "Really?" _So it was right to send more! Though we _were _trying_

_for a dwarf and Urgal pair… _"They've started the circuit, then?"

The queen nodded. "Yes. From Ilia Fëon to Hedarth, in a curve along the coast. They'll hit almost every city. With luck, the next few will hatch in the Spine and the Beors. Arya's flying with them now – she and Fírnen will give them some basic instruction."

Eragon nodded. Then, "How are things?"

"Rather dull," admitted Nasuada. "No rebellions or bloody wars to fight." They both laughed.

"Oromis once told me that a hero is always bored – daily life isn't exciting enough and questing is what he does for a living." He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Angela and Elva are well?"

"I haven't heard from Angela, but Elva's been spending a great deal of time with the werecats, of all people. Should I be worried?"

Eragon grinned. "Only if they're scared off their bowls of cream.

After a second the mirth melted off Nasuada's face. Ugh. I have to go now. There's a 'diplomatic discussion' concerning the Riders soon among the world leaders. Guess who called it."

"Orrin."

"Right, first try. I'll bet he wants to control any Riders that come from Surda."

"Then we'll take him off the circuit," said Eragon. "See what he does then. The Riders serve, but we don't follow – especially not him."

"True," the queen mused. "I'll bring it up. Farewell, Eragon."

"Goodbye." the mirror shimmered and was still, reflecting only the room it was situated in. _I ought to tell the elves, _he thought, then reached out with his mind. _Blöhdgarm!_

The answer came a moment later. _You have need of us, Shadeslayer?_

_Only a word. The circuit has begun and two eggs have bonded._

Eragon could sense the elf's joy and that of his peers, but it was not betrayed by his response. _We will make the necessary preparation immediately. _

Suddenly, muffled wingbeats came from the distance. Eragon ran up to the dragonroost above the fortress, taking the steps three at a time. The stone platform jutted out of cliff and building alike, akin to a giant hand clawing for the river beyond. A streak of blue flashed past him, and Saphira landed gracefully on the edge of the roost as he approached. _Little One._

Without saying anything, Eragon shared with her the memories of what had just transpired. After she had viewed them, he said, _It is starting._

_Five! _Saphira roared victoriously, shaking the ground with tremors worthy of a small earthquake. _Two dragons anew, and soon to be three more!_

_I know. _He smiled. _We have a few days, maybe a little over a week and a half. Let's get this place in order._

_We'll see just how many dragons can fit, eh? _ Fire licked at the edges of Saphira's snout as she rumbled excitedly.

The Eldunarí, who had been silent up until then, suddenly started speaking all at once. Even the older ones like Valdr had something to say. For a moment, Eragon couldn't understand because so many were talking about different things, but after a moment Umaroth and Glaedr rose above the din.

_Tread lightly, Kingkiller, _said the white dragon. _Those who taught the Forsworn learned the lesson of guidance long ago._

_And that is? _inquired the Rider.

Glaedr answered him. _To focus on training peacekeepers, not soldiers. For a warrior becomes a conqueror, but those who keep the peace are content to remain so._

_Sound advice, _Eragon said. _Thank you, ebrithilar._ Saphira repeated the acknowledgement. Or had they said it at the same time? He was not sure. _A week and a half, _he thought privately. _Forget torture and death, perhaps waiting is the truest agony._

**Arya**

Five dragons soared through the air, banking around the easternmost peaks of the Beor mountains. The largest dragon, at the head of the "delta" formation, was green; the others comprised a medley of silver, purple, brown, and black. Arya and Fírnen pulled into a dive, landing at the bank of the Az Ragni. The smaller dragons, barely fit to ride, followed suit.

First to arrive was Astrid, a blond, rosy-cheeked dwarf girl and Rider of the brown dragon, Ragnar. She was cheerful and kind, and though so far she did not particularly excel in fighting or magic, Arya felt a calm in her mind that belied no impatience. Ragnar himself was a hotheaded, tenacious type, but the two canceled each other out and worked well together.

Next were the two human initiates, Opheila from Teirm and Beq from Feinster. Both were recently of age. Opheila was a slim, attractive girl with fair, tanned skin and chestnut hair. She had an affinity for innovative spells. The silver dragon, who had taken the name Thera, had hatched for her the minute she approached. Thera was reserved and intelligent, and their combined cleverness was sometimes disturbingly calculating. Beq was slightly older, a tall, powerfully built young man. He was a blacksmith's apprentice, obvious from his familiarity with weapons and the muscles under his deep brown arms. He spoke relatively little, taciturn at the best of times, but the purple dragon he was joined with, Naroki, had plenty to say for them both. She was ambitious and very, very talkative.

Last came Vaas, the young Urgal ram matched with the stocky black dragon Ithros. Owing to the fact that Vaas was a Kull, Ithros had grown faster and burlier than any of his fellows. The two were very intimidating together. Sometimes it was hard to read Vaas, but he generally came across as a determined and bright young warrior. Ithros was much the same on personality's terms.

Arya stood with her back to them, looking at the large estuary where the river met the sea – an area absent on most maps. She could sense the curiosity and mild discomfort in her students' minds as they lingered in silence, staring at the black waves as nightfall became total and inescapable. Opheila came up behind her, Thera's head snaking around to follow over her shoulder. "Ebrithilar?" she asked with her mouth and mind. "What is it?"

"Look there," answered Arya, pointing to the waves beyond. "What do you see?"

Ragnar, who had particularly sharp eyesight even for a dragon, spoke first. _A body – there's someone out there! I can't make them out. They're too big for a dwarf and too small for an Urgal._

_I have them, _Fírnen said, and he took off with a gust of wind. The others watched him fly into the mist and in due course return with something in his claws. As he landed, he gently tipped out what he was carrying. Arya made it there first and stumbled over the waterlogged body of a human boy. She jumped as she beheld his face – he looked so like Eragon for a moment that her heart leapt into her throat. But he was obviously more human, and had darker hair and sharper features than Eragon had possessed before the Agaetí Blöhdren. His fit, lean frame was clothed in a tunic and leggings, with some type of leather armor strapped to his forearms, shins, and torso. By the rise and fall of his chest, Arya could tell he was breathing. It was faint, though: the boy was half-drowned. There were also cuts and scrapes on his hands and face, the only exposed skin he had, but a few of them went under his clothes and Arya was reminded of her torture in Gil'ead by their methodical, systematic pattern. A nasty gash from his temple to his jawline made it clear that he was barely hanging on to life.

"This boy needs a healer," said Arya tersely. "I can close the wounds, but he'll recover slowly. How far are we from Hedarth?"

"Maybe a day," Astrid ventured. "Give or take."

"Good." Arya murmured, "Waíse heill," and the youth's cuts began to close. "We'll see if a medic can watch him there. Surely Nasuada, Orik, maybe even Garzhvog has one with them."

_Should one of us fly him?_ Naroki, predictably quick to volunteer.

"No need. Fírnen and I will carry him." She picked him up as easily as a bundle of firewood and set him in the saddle, then climbed on herself. "Mount up! We do not stop until we reach the rendezvous point." As the Riders prepared to take to the skies, a strange rustling came from one of Fírnen's saddlebags – the one where Arya had kept the last egg.

_Erm, Arya?_

_Yes, Fírnen?_

_Do you hear that sort of tapping noise? _Before she could say yes, an earsplitting crack rang out, causing the initiates and dragons to jump and wheel around to face Arya, who sat paralyzed as an amber baby dragon crawled out of the saddle bag, glistening wet. It yawned, spread its tiny wings, and climbed up to where the unconscious youth was slumped against Arya's back. It pressed its nose to his hand, mewling timorously. To her amazement the human's eyes flicked open as a flash announced the gedwëy ignasia gracing his palm. When it faded, his eyelids drooped and he slipped back under. The hatchling nipped his finger and, when it did not rouse him, crawled into his lap and curled up there.

"That decided something," grunted Vaas. "Looks like he'll be coming with us either way."

Arya waved them all off. "We shall deal with our curiosities later. Let's go!" Without another word, the dragons launched into flight. As Fírnen rose into the air, Arya touched the hatchling's mind and told it that it was safe, and need not worry. The dragon could be male or female; it for now only thought in images and sensations. For some reason it insisted on showing Arya a certain picture of its new Rider lying on the beach, which it had seen in her mind. She didn't know what it was trying to tell her, but it wouldn't stop until she convinced it that she understood. Fírnen also had an exchange with the baby dragon. It went in a similar fashion, but all he could glean was that it wasn't hungry quite yet. The green dragon found this very odd, but Arya didn't worry or wonder about it as much as he did.

As the thunder of dragons flew into the desert, their arrival at Hedarth close at hand, one thought went through every mind. Any way you looked at it, a new chapter in the Riders' story was about to begin. With all the eggs bonded, it was only a matter of time until the Order truly lived once more.


	3. Chapter Two: Reunion

**Hey, everyone! I'm just going to say I'm so happy about how well received this story is becoming. Let's make this a perfect second try!**

**Gabby and Guests and everyone else: Thank you for your beautiful reviews. **

**And to answer the one question I had, the reason Arya asked Astrid the distance to Hedarth is this:**

**Although Arya has been all around the world ferrying the eggs, before and after Galby's defeat, the fact of the matter is that until now, Hedarth was not on the radar for the egg circuit. Thus, _she has never been there from the Beors on dragonback_. Astrid, a dwarven girl, lives in the area and has family in Hedarth (who we'll meet later) and since she's Ingeitum (did I mention that?), was probably there with Orik's entourage to see Eragon off at the end of Inheritance. Since she's part of the culture and knows the land better, as well as having presumably been there multiple times, she'd be able to give a slightly more accurate rough estimate. Hope that helped!**

**Awright, mah peeps, let's get on with it. Shipping fluff ahoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Reunion**

**Eragon**

Saphira roared and swiped at the Fanghur, tearing a quintet of gashes in its side with her claws. Another swooped in from above; Eragon yelled, "Jierda!" and its spine shattered, sending it plummeting to the earth. Suddenly both Rider and dragon heard a group of high-pitched, grating shrieks, followed by a rapid assault on their minds. However, they fended off all three remaining Fanghur easily, and proceeded to change course for a counterattack. Flying under the lowest of the three, Eragon merely had to hold Brisingr upright over his head to deliver a fatal blow. The sword's blue blade gleamed almost purple with blood. Saphira twisted and buffeted one Fanghur with her wings while clawing and biting the other. The latter joined its pack mates in the void, while the former escaped with many broken bones and a mortal fear of dragons, most likely.

Regardless of the fact that the danger was past, Eragon and Saphira remained vigilant for the rest of their flight. It was close now – the creeping sensation of dread that was always in the back of Eragon's brain, slowly seeping into his conscious thoughts. As it was, he was reluctant to let his guard down, and he and Saphira did not touch minds until the castle was in view. His vest and undershirt clung to him with sweat. The laces of the former had come undone in the flurry of battle.

_That was in interesting sense of déjà vu, _mused Saphira. _Takes me back to our first journey to Du Weldenvarden._

_Mh… but they're getting bolder. We'll have to be more watchful; there are more out here than there are in the Beors. And anyway, that was when my back was still scarred. _He scratched his shoulder. _Can you believe that? Almost four years I've gone around looking like an elven princeling._

_Time flies faster than I do sometimes. _A moment of silence, then:_ We need a name for this place._

_Why's that?_

_So we can stop calling it "the castle" or "the fortress" whenever we talk about it. _

_What about Doru Breoaldras? It follows the "Doru" naming of Vroengard's city, and it means "the city that is a house" in the ancient language._

_I like it. If we Riders and dragons are going to be one big family, this will only serve to drive the idea home. It will keep us closer, just as having fewer of us at a time will. _

_So be it. _As the sun sank in the sky across the mountains, Eragon used theName of Names to give the title to the settlement – it seemed more proper somehow that to just decide to call it that. _We can mention it to the elves when they return._

_With the new Riders. _As Saphira said this, a leap of joy entered both of their minds with the realization. The elves were three days out on the _Talíta_, the original twenty crew plus Blöhdgarm and his spellcasters to help the young trainees further and otherwise protect the other passengers – assorted world leaders, family, and emissaries, presumably. Hence Eragon and Saphira were the only ones besides Cuaroc left to watch over Doru Breoaldras, hence the patrol during which they had encountered a hunting pack of Fanghur. _We have still longer to wait. They'll be at Hedarth by the time the next three days are over, and then it's another week or so…_

_I know. Longer still. _The next day passed as a shadow at dusk, fleeting and nondescript. They encountered no threats on their flights, and by late afternoon Eragon and Saphira resigned to sitting on the front pier, watching the waves of the lake.

One minute it wasn't there, and then it was: a flash of emerald in the sky, streaking toward them at great distance. Eragon cast out his mind. _Cuaroc! We may need you! _The Eldunarí sent him an impression of affirmation and seconds later his metal body's footfalls echoed in the castle behind them. Saphira stood as Eragon swung athletically into the saddle, and then took off, racing toward the other dragon. As they closed the distance between them, another mind touched Eragon's, one he had not felt for nigh on three years. A wrenching feeling came into his gut. It was not an unpleasant emotion that triggered it. He lowered his defenses and made full contact. He and Saphira merged with the other pair. He then knew, for certain, who the other Rider was.

_Arya!_

_Eragon!_

Fírnen roared, a much deeper bellow than he'd had before, and Saphira let out a titanic one of her own. Executing a backflip, Eragon and Saphira entered a parallel track with Arya and Fírnen, leading them to land on the pier. A charge of excitement and happiness crackled back and forth through their mental link. As soon as the Riders dismounted Saphira and Fírnen tackled each other, rolled and wrestling like children playing in the dirt. Eragon could not suppress a smile, and Arya returned it, showing her white teeth. She looked more beautiful than ever, garbed in her familiar black leathers and a green sash.

Eragon twisted his right hand over his chest in greeting, and started to say: "Atra esterní ono theldui-" but Arya rushed forward and embraced him, cutting him off. He was almost too surprised to respond, but he encircled her in his arms, taking in the scent of crushed pine needles. They held each other for a moment, and then Arya pulled away.

"Wait a moment – I have injured with me." she raised a hand and spoke in the ancient language. Promptly, a body materialized from thin air and fell, giving her barely enough time to catch it. The black-haired youth landed in her arms like a babe. He looked as if he was reaching manhood, but the crisscross scars on his face made it impossible to estimate his age correctly. An amber baby dragon crawled out from under his jacket, sending Eragon's heart into a leap. "I healed the wounds with magic, but they scarred themselves anyway – like some sort of enchantment. Can the dragons watch over him?"

Eragon nodded. _Cuaroc?_ The metal man stepped out from behind the castle doors and clanked along the jetty, taking the youth and hatchling from Arya and returning the way he'd come, presumably to bring the pair to the infirmary. _If he even knows where it is. He never leaves that vault. _"How did he get hurt?" Eragon asked. "Were you attacked?"

Arya shook her head. "No. We found him washed ashore the Az Ragni like this. The dragon hatched for him the second we brought him near the saddlebags by accident. So far he yet remains unconscious; the healers at Hedarth could do nothing. I thought the Eldunarí might recognize if there's any magic on the scars."

_The hatchling has not left his side, _Fírnen added. He and Saphira were now watching intently. _It insists on repeatedly showing us this image. _A picture of the young man lying prone on the banks of a river appeared through their link.

"Strange," shrugged Eragon. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough." He looked at Fírnen again. "You grew!"

_I did._

"You're about as big as Saphira now! She sort of slowed down and stopped getting so much bigger so fast."

Saphira sniffed. _Happens to the best of us._

Arya gave a tinkling laugh and took Eragon's hand. "Show us around?"

"Of course." They walked up the pier, two on as many legs and two on four, and through the massive doors of Doru Breoaldras's citadel. For the next hour, Eragon and Saphira guided Arya and Fírnen through the castle. They visited every room; the library, infirmary, dining hall, vaults, and the dragonroost, among others. Eventually they took flight through the training field, the forest, and the gardens.

As the sky darkened, Eragon motioned for everyone to land at the pier once more. Once he was on his feet, he asked Arya: "Will you stay here until they arrive?"

"Aye, she said. "After all, I still can tell you about the students and help set aside space for them all." She hesitated. "And, of course, the longer I'm here, the better." Eragon thought he saw some color in her cheeks as she smiled shyly.

After a moment, he shrugged. "We could set you two up in a room, then – that is, if you're tired." He raised his eyebrows at Fírnen.

_Not quite, _the dragon replied. Arya made no move to argue, so they went to the Hall where the Riders would soon gather after training to eat and rest. It was by far one of the biggest chambers in the city-fortress, equaled or exceeded only by the vaults, the caves behind the dragonroost, and the main entryway, where the dragons and Riders were meant to be able to assemble in force on short notice.

The Hall consisted of a combination of light brown mountain stone and flame-resistant synthetic wood, dark and rich like cider in fall. A frame of pillars flanked several long tables, and farther back was a couched area for both dragon and Rider to recline. Doors led off on either side at multiple points in the room, three or four spaced out evenly on a wall. It was a dimly lit affair, for both mood and the purpose of being easy on the eyes. Legions of the red flameless Erisdar lanterns hung from the ceiling and bracketed to pillars.

Upon entry to this, which Eragon thought one of the most aesthetically pleasing rooms in the castle, he and Arya walked past the tables and to the common area, followed by Saphira and Fírnen. the two dragons were having a lengthy conversation in private through mindspeak, and curled up side by side on a large pallet near the back of the hall. Eragon thought it best to give them a wide berth, so he sat on a couch at what he deemed an appropriately respectful distance. What surprised him was when Arya sat to his left, close enough so that their bare arms brushed as she did so, sending a jolt from his skin to his heart. All his pent-up feelings for her had been working their way into the fore of his mind in the past hour and a half, and now… he hadn't felt this way since his reckless attempts to woo her in Ellesméra. A hint of a smile crossed his face. _How foolish I was how young and foolish… and look at me, I still am._

Trying to distract himself, he turned to Arya. "So, tell me of the new Riders. Who are they?"

She pushed a lock of sable hair behind her ear. "There is much I could tell you about each. I can be brief now to include them all if you like. First is Opheila. She came to us in Teirm." As Arya talked, she opened the palm of her left hand and green sparks danced around her fingertips. "She was the daughter of a mercenary, a guard on the trade ships. She had certain skills, but beyond that we knew nothing until the silver egg hatched for her. The dragon is Thera, a female. They are a collected and intelligent pair, and very skilled in spellcasting."

"And the other human?"

"Beq, from Feinster. He was a blacksmith's apprentice, a dark, chiseled boy. He rarely speaks, but the purple egg bonded to him and the dragon talks enough for both of them." A tone of slight amusement came to her voice. "Naroki is also female. She is loquacious and very ambitious – somewhat of a counter."

Eragon could feel her relaxing now that she was opening up to him; Arya was gradually leaning more on his shoulder with her own. He was thankful that the Eldunarí had withdrawn from his mind – they'd have a thing or two to say about his thoughts, especially Glaedr.

"The dwarf is called Astrid," Arya continued. "She is Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, I believe, and hails from Tronjheim, so you two are practically related. Cheerful, kind, even jovial unceasingly. She strikes me as someone whose spirits are not easily dampened. Ragnar, her dragon, is male – the brown egg. He is a little more aggressive and temperamental, but I suppose opposites do attract occasionally. They work well together, not surprisingly."

"And the Urgal initiate?" Eragon asked. "What of them?"

The elf blinked. "He is a bit harder to read. Vaas is his name; he is Garzvhog's nephew. He is a battle-proven ram, but not yet considered an adult by aging standards. He is also Kull. I'll give you a minute to imagine the state of his dragon."

Here Eragon winced. "Has its spine curved inward?"

Arya laughed. "No, thankfully. Ithros hatched from the black egg. He is an unusually heavy and wide dragon, and grew faster than his fellows, I would guess to accommodate his… rather large Rider."

The human grinned. "How do they connect? Counter or match?"

"Match, as far as I can tell. Both determined and possessing of an affinity for battle, yet not bloodthirsty. perfect for a Rider who must fight often."

"I was worried that all the Urgal Riders would fall into that role," Eragon sighed. "Still, it suits them." He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "And last is the boy from the river. This will be an… interesting first class."

"Indeed. Do not be resigned to tribulations, however – you have me and the elves, as well as Angela to help you and the Eldunarí to teach them."

"So she does plan on showing up here!" Eragon exclaimed. "I'd wondered when she would get bored."

"Apparently, Elva hasn't been misbehaving enough to keep her busy," Arya agreed.

A moment passed in silence. Having run out of evasions, Eragon gave up and let himself ask after her. "How are you, Arya? What was it like to train them?"

She shifted in her seat, and Eragon noticed her leg pressing gently against his. "I did what I could. It was not dissimilar to ferrying Saphira's egg around was, but it's much faster on dragonback. They learned quickly; those who I taught are at or above the knowledge you learned from Brom." A pause. "I am proud of them."

Hesitantly, Eragon put his hand on hers. "As well you should be," he said quietly. "Thank you for teaching them what he taught me." For a minute, he expected her to end the contact, as she had at their campfire on the way back from Helgrind, but she did not. In fact, she drew her legs up and sat with them crossed beneath her to turn and lean across him.

"It is good to see you again, Eragon," Arya said earnestly. "I have missed you."

His mouth found the words after a second. "I missed you too. More than I care to admit."

A curiously vulnerable expression crossed Arya's face. She laid a hand on the side of his jaw, as she had long ago when he told her he was leaving. "I once told you I needed time," she said slowly. "When we talked of our feelings. It has been two years. I've had my time. And," Arya switched to the ancient language. "I feel the same way."

In a single, fluid movement, Arya took his face in both of her hands and drew it to hers. Eragon could feel her hands shaking, but she seemed to overcome her nervousness. Then she leaned even closer and kissed him. A thousand thoughts ran electrified through Eragon's head, but somehow he didn't feel the need to stop and contemplate them. He kissed back, wrapping his arms around her waist and assuming the pose he had seen Roran and Katrina take many times - eyes closed, intertwined, and content. Arya's warm, soft lips moved against his own, and in a second their minds met in a similar manner. He now felt what she felt, and she what he felt also. An overwhelming emotion gripped him, and he was faced with the staggering depth of their combined feelings for one another. He did not try to harness or control it. He simply let go and breathed in the scent of forest.

As if by mutual agreement, they broke away at the exact same instant. Arya's face was flushed, her green eyes sparkling in the lamplight, and a nervous smile worked its way onto her face. Eragon knew he must look much the same; his grin tugged at his ears.

_Well, it's about time, _said Saphira. Both Riders wheeled to face the dragons, who were considering them with expressions that could only be described as smug.

_I guess I owe you those deer, _Fírnen agreed. _I thought it would take longer._

_For a kiss? _scoffed the blue dragon. _Not likely. Look at them! The second they're alone without our attentions, they're raring to go. Why, I'm surprised that – _

"Yes, yes, we get it!" Eragon interrupted hastily, the tips of his ears burning. "We…" he looked at the floor, then at Arya. "We should probably get some sleep. It's late."

Arya cleared her throat and stood. "Indeed. Could you… could you find Fírnen and myself a room?"

Eragon got to his feet and offered her his arm. "Certainly." She slipped her elbow through his and they departed the Hall, dragons trailing triumphantly behind. When they reached a room close to Eragon and Saphira's tower that was big enough for Fírnen, Eragon opened the door. "Here we are. Make yourselves at home." Fírnen nuzzled Saphira's snout and ducked through the archway.

Arya pulled her arm free and turned to him. "Good night, Eragon."

"Good night." On impulse, Eragon leaned forward and kissed her again. What was intended to be a quick peck on the lips turned longer as she held him there by the collar of his vest. After a few more seconds, she pulled away, smiling warmly. He returned the gesture and promptly backed into Saphira's shins as he started walking away. Once he had righted himself, Eragon heard the door shut gently behind him.

_It was going to happen at some point, _crowed Saphira. _I called it!_

_Yeah, well… _Eragon ran his fingers through his hair. _I knew we couldn't ignore you and Fírnen for long, but also all that's between us made it seem a little more unlikely. Don't blame me for being surprised._

After a pause, he heard: _She really cares for you, you know. You were too… busy to look at her thoughts earlier, but she was as addled as you were back in Ellesméra after the Agaetí Blöhdren. For someone who used to say you two could never be, she certainly enjoyed your kissing._

Eragon was whistling cheerfully to himself all the way up the steps to his tower.


	4. Chapter Three: The Boy in the River

**Ba bum ba bum! Early chapter! Yaaaay!**

**This includes -**

**-a cameo from a mysterious stranger in a blue tuxedo (My defense is that Christopher Paolini is a Whovian too!)**

**-new character introduction**

**-the missing Rider's training begins!**

**-FLUFF**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter Three: The Boy in the River**

**Eragon**

Saphira's roar woke Eragon with a start. _Get up! There's an intruder in the castle! _

Rolling out of bed onto his feet, Eragon snatched up Brisingr. _Where?_

_The infirmary, _Glaedr's voice said in his mind. _Hurry! The hatchlings may be in danger! They're directly in the line of fire!_

Throwing himself down the stairs over the railing, Eragon yelled, "Letta!" and his body turned upright, slowing before he hit the ground. As his feet settled on the stone floor, Arya and Fírnen bolted out of their room further down the hallway and Saphira landed behind him with a resounding _thud_. The four exchanged looks and both Riders and dragons ran to the infirmary.

Bursting through the door, Eragon saw a tall, brown-haired man garbed in blue leaning over the youth, who lay prone on the cot, with a puzzled expression on his face. A small metal object was in his hand, glowing blue; he seemed to scan the youth with it. The hatchling dragon was asleep, unaware of the events around it. Cuaroc was standing menacingly about a foot behind, but an upright finger of the man forestalled them all. Eragon cleared his throat and the man looked up. "Ah, hello!" he said cheerfully. "No need to worry, I'm a doctor."

"How did you find this place?" Arya demanded. Saphira and Fírnen growled from the doorway behind her.

"Oh, I just sort of… dropped in. Washed up, you could say… time is like a sea, isn't it?" the doctor answered cryptically. "I thought I'd help since the first thing I saw was this injured fellow here… I've sent an offload pulse into his tissue that may help the scars fade. Just finishing up, really. I can go if you like, as soon as my mates beam me up."

Eragon stepped forward. "Wait a minute–"

The blue rod beeped. "Oh, there they are now!" The doctor beamed, and suddenly his form flickered. "Terribly sorry to intrude. Bye now!" To Eragon's surprise, he became slowly transparent until it seemed only an outline of him was there at all. Before he disappeared completely, he seemed to add as an afterthought: "Oh, wait! You might die if you don't know. There's a-" and the he was gone.

Arya gasped. "The lonely god," she said uncertainly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Eragon.

"Adrift upon the seas of time, the lonely god wanders from shore to distant shore, upholding the laws of the stars above," she recited. "I wrote it once, or something like it, on the way back from Helgrind. I didn't even intend to, really. If there's anything close to that in the world, this man… I have a strong feeling that's him."

_That was interesting,_ rumbled Fírnen.

Glaedr spoke again. _We can find no magic here save our own. However, the youngling's scars have begun to slowly disappear. This is… most unusual._

"What does this mean?" Eragon fumbled for his train of thought. "How can one explain what just-?"

_We don't know. You're asking the wrong dragons, apparently._

"Whatever it was that happened, it was not of this world," Arya murmured. "IF the boundaries of our reality are slipping, then something is going to happen soon that may determine the fate of Alegaësia and all lands beyond."

_True words, _said Umaroth. _But we have a more immediate concern. He is waking._

The boy on the cot stirred. His eyes opened.

**?**

_The children ran, chasing each other among the stones. Laughter filled the air around them, bringing light and joy to the ruins in which they played. Far away now was the jungle filled with danger; the poison in the air that made their people grow lean and hard. Far away were the dark hours when they had been taught to heft their lanterns and walk cloaked among the adults, in a procession reverent of gods among men they knew little of._

_A boy no more than ten raced ahead of his peers, sprinting in accordance with his build – a combination of difficult living and youthful energy. Behind him, the others cheered or snarled, but they all doubled their efforts to keep pace. Soon they reached the edge of the stone courtyard, where the roots and vines began to creep in between the flagstones. The forest loomed, shadowy, foreboding. Gradually, the children slowed down, halting at the border, peering timorously into the shade. _

_The boy, panting, hands resting on his knees, looked up at the blue sky. A great black bird took flight from the tree nearest to him, spiraling with every flap of its ebony wings. Captivated, he watched even as his companions began the trek back to their mothers' skirts. An old, ancestral longing for the expanse and freedom of the sky shone on his upturned face, wondering, dreaming of flight for the first – but surely not the last – time._

**Eragon**

Eragon wrested free of the memory, so surprised by the assault on his mind that he hadn't had time to throw up his defenses. He waited, but no further attacks came. Probing, he found only one unfamiliar consciousness in the area: the youth with the scars. "Who else saw that?" he asked, glancing at Arya.

"I did," she answered. "I don't know what to make of it."

_Fírnen and I saw it, too, _said Saphira. _The Eldunarí have gone_ _ballistic. Glaedr and Umaroth are trying to calm them down. _She said this so all could hear, and Eragon saw the boy flinch.

"I saw it," he said slowly. "It's a memory."

"Yours?" Arya asked.

"Only one I've got." He stood up shakily, but then backpedaled at the sudden sight of Cuaroc, whose sword was still leveled at where the intruder had stood. The boy settled for standing with his back pressed against the wall. "Where am I?"

"A safe place," Eragon said quickly. "It'll be easier to explain if you come with us." He shoved Cuaroc aside and thrust out a hand. "Eragon."

Thee youth hesitated, and shook it. "Ayel," he returned grudgingly. "I guess I owe my name to you all anyway. I don't mean to be dodgy, it's just one of the few things I remember." His eyes flicked to Arya, then to the dragons watching from the doorway.

Noticing this, Arya sheathed Támerlein. "I am Arya," she offered. "The metal brute over there is Cuaroc. He is harmless even when he's not paralyzed, so don't mind his sword in your face. It's a matter of caution."

Ayel nodded. "And the dragons?"

_He's taking all this rather well, _Fírnen commented.

At that, Ayel crossed his arms. _"He" is standing right here. _Eragon and Arya jumped, but Fírnen just made the trilling growl in his throat that passed for dragon laugher.

"Where did you learn to use your mind to speak?" Eragon asked carefully.

Shaking his head, Ayel smiled sadly. "I have absolutely no idea."

_Interesting, _said Saphira. She and Fírnen introduced themselves, and made sure to mention the absent Eldunarí before one of them surprised the newcomer.

Ayel bowed to both dragons with the back of his right hand on his forehead. "It is an honor, firebreathers," he said almost reverently.

_I like him,_ said Saphira. As she said this, the amber hatchling – now the size of the average dog – gave a throaty squeak from the blankets on the cot. Ayel reached over and scratched it behind the ears.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he mused. "But last I heard, the Riders were no longer with us."

A presence descended on the minds of the people in the room. Glaedr spoke. _You speak as if you have the knowledge of one from Alegaësia, yet your memories must be truly gone, for the past five or six years have been full of change. Regardless, you know of both dragons and Riders. How is this?_

"When you are raised in the manner that I was, it's a-" the youth frowned. "That's funny. I thought I remembered something." He tilted his head to the side and shook it, as if to let water fall out of his ears. "Um… can we go outside? I… don't like small spaces," he added, grinning sheepishly.

"That would probably be for the best, said Arya. "Let us go."

For the next hour, Eragon and Arya walked the castle grounds with Ayel in tow. The hatchling nipped at his heels and ran rings around Saphira and Fírnen. As they explained to him both _where_ and _what_ he was, he didn't seem too surprised – even holding a kind of reverence for dragons and Riders, as if he had been brought up to respect them exclusively. Apart from this, he was quick-witted, intelligent, and altogether likeable, which only made Eragon more uneasy. Something didn't sit right about the memory he'd seen in Ayel's mind – and the youth himself was too adaptive, it seemed.

_You're being paranoid,_ said Glaedr privately.

_I can't help this sort of vague distrust I'm feeling._

_I imagine he feels the same way. _The golden dragon showed him a picture of a flock of birds. _When a new one joins the flock, it must work twice as hard to earn its place._

_Then if he's to be a Rider, we'll need to train him fast to catch him up. At least he's willing to be taught. _Eragon called to Arya and Ayel, who were walking ahead of him with the dragons trailing behind. "Follow me for a moment – we need to get things moving."

They went to the training field, a flat patch of grass under a slight overhang behind the main keep. As a stone door came into view, Eragon whispered, "Ládrin." _Open. _The stone slid to the side almost silently and revealed a rather cluttered assortment of Riders' swords. He gathered the few that seemed to match the hatchling's scales and carried them to the center of the field.

"Go ahead and choose a blade form these," he told Ayel. The youth raised an eyebrow. "We're fighting already?"

"I need to gauge your skill level so I know how much to focus on hand-to-hand combat," explained Eragon. "With magic I know we'll have to start from scratch, but this is another matter entirely. If you can defend yourself, we can spar less often than if you can't."

Ayel shrugged and picked through the pile of swords. "Yuck," he said to a longsword that was the most inaccurate color – a pale, apricot hue. "No," as a single-edged shortsword followed. "Too mainstream," was the verdict on a hand-and-a-half sword. The eventual winner was a mid-length arming sword, suitable for slashing or thrusting, with a grip that allowed both hands but was comfortable for one. Its blade was the color of light cider, and its crossguard curved slightly to trap an opponent's blade in a disarming hook. The hilt was wrapped in thin leather and its pommel inset with an amber gemstone. "Ah! This'll do." Ayel gave the sword an experimental swing. "There's an inscription. Can you read it?"

Etched into the ricasso at the base of the blade were a few glyphs in the Liduen Kvaedhí. Eragon squinted at the meticulous penmanship. "Hljödhr, that this weapon may bring silent end to the enemies of peace." He gestured to the blade. "_Silent_ is the sword's name. It'd probably be best not to scream and wave it about when you're in battle." This purchased a small smirk form the sword's wielder. "Now let me show you how to block its edge." Eragon demonstrated the spell by blocking Brisingr. "Brightsteel is durable and fighting edge-on-edge won't dent or notch the blade, but this is for our protection. It can cut through flesh and bone indiscriminately."

Ayel placed his thumb and forefinger on the blade of his sword. It took him a few tries, but on the fourth (and most frustrated) "Gëuloth du knifr!" a yellow spark zigzagged down the blade and the invisible shield flickered.

"Good," said Eragon, pleased. "Now defend yourself." He took a stance and Ayel did his best to mirror it. They stared at each other for a moment, then the hatchling dragon sneezed and Eragon pounced.

Ayel deflected the first strike, albeit clumsily, but let his sword be batted down. Rather than crush his skull with Brisingr there and then, Eragon switched direction and slashed at the youth's thigh. The blue sword rang on contact with Hljödhr as Eragon realized that Ayel's sagging sword arm had been a ruse. _He knows he's being tested and he's clever or experienced enough to be manipulative with it. _Eragon grinned. _He's in for a shock, then._

He delivered a series of rapid blows to the side, slowing them down so Ayel could parry, and then, instead of changing direction again, rapped him on the hip with the flat of Brisingr's blade. Ayel grimaced and countered, but Eragon blocked him easily. The next few exchanges went in a similar manner. As they dueled, Ayel started to become more comfortable with Hljödhr, and his reflexes became smoother and faster. He seemed to have been taught an intentionally unpredictable fighting style, and was proficient to some degree. Eragon eased into using more and more of his usual speed and strength, and once Ayel was unable to keep up, he flicked Brisingr to the initiate's throat, holding it there.

"Well done," he said honestly. "Whoever taught you wasn't wasting their time. However, it seems your instruction wasn't complete yet – even interrupted, judging by the fact that you're clearly rusty. We can limit sparring to a match a day for now, though – you're at least able to defend yourself against anyone except an elf or a Shade, which is more than most men of fifteen years can say."

Ayel was perspiring slightly and resting his hands on his sword's pommel to breathe. "You're sure you don't have elvish blood yourself?" he wheezed.

"Positive."

"Well then you're easily the best swordfighter I've had the fortune to duel," said the youth. "Not that I can remember anyone else, but my muscles are as reliable a judge as my mind."

Eragon chuckled. "If you think so, we can have you fight Arya next to set your opinion straight."

Arya came up behind him. "That's sweet, but I don't think we should be killing him yet." She held a pebble in her hand. "Ready for the next lesson?"

Coughing, Ayel straightened up. "Still coming, ma'am. Is there a sheath to this sword?"

It took Eragon all of ten seconds to rummage through the armory and find a sheath with elvish glyphs matching Hljödhr's. He tossed it to Ayel, who slid the sword into it and set it down by the hatchling, who sniffed at it curiously. "Okay. Hit me."

Arya slapped him across the face.

"Ow!" He rubbed his jaw. "I meant, tell me what to do!"

"Sorry," said Arya. "I'm not familiar with human figures of speech." She offered him the pebble. At the sight of her raising a hand, he flinched, but then took the rock. "Your task is to levitate the pebble in the air using magic. The words you will use are: stenr reïsa."

"Stenr reïsa," Ayel murmured.

"Yes. Remain here and contact one of us when you have succeeded. We'll leave your dragon with you, but we should start the next cycle's patrol." Arya touched Eragon's mind. _Cuaroc can watch him while we're out. I think I may have an idea as to where he is from._

_Alright, where – _as they walked to Saphira and Fírnen,Eragon was interrupted by Ayel's sudden shouting. "Stenr reïsa… stenr reïsa!" He whooped. "I got it! Look!" The pebble was floating an inch above his palm. As they watched, it dropped back into his hand.

Taken aback by the speed with which Ayel had picked it up, Eragon thought quickly for another exercise to keep him busy. _I'll have to challenge him a bit. _"Now for the second step. Watch closely." He raised a hand to the overhang and uttered, "Stenr reïsa!" A chunk of rock the size of a wheelbarrow snapped off the sheer cliff face and floated down gently. At the same time, Ayel's pebble lifted from his hand and shot under the boulder, trapping itself beneath it as the larger stone landed. The youth stepped back, wide eyed.

Eragon smiled. "Now move _your_ rock again." He pulled himself onto Saphira. "Cuaroc should be around here somewhere. IF you can't reach us, he'll mind you. And it doesn't matter how long it takes you to do this, he added. "Just remember what we told you about magic – don't expend your energy. This is well beyond your current ability. Don't be dismayed if you have to keep at it a while." Almost as an afterthought, he took the pocket dictionary he'd made of the ancient language from his saddlebags and threw it to Ayel, who caught it reflexively. "If you need to figure out an incantation, use this. Be careful of your grammar."

_You trust him with that? _Saphira asked, but not incredulously.

_He's honest. I can tell a lot about a man by how he fights. Ayel's clever, but he fights almost like a berserker – no concern for himself beyond reason. He's trained to protect, and that takes altruism. So, yes, I trust him._

As they flew away, Ayel's voice carried in the wind, alternating between cursing and trying out new words in the ancient language. Soon, though, they were out of earshot and nothing but the rushing of the air around them made a sound. Saphira let out a coughing growl, laughing.

_What is it? _Eragon inquired.

_Seeing the three of you reminded me of Brom teaching you how to fight and cast spells. Except for one thing._

_What would that be?_

_You're a lot less gruff and intimidating._

Eragon smiled. _I suppose I am. _He and Saphira banked left and Arya guided Fírnen ahead of them, flying low over a peninsula, which hosted a grove of pine and birch trees between the mountains and one of the wings of the lake that tapered into a river. They crossed the fjord and took to the open sky. After completing the patrol circuit without incident, the four returned to the jetty and landed. When the Riders dismounted, Saphira and Fírnen flew up to the dragonroost.

"I was wondering how long that would take," said Eragon.

Arya smiled and beckoned to him. "Come on." They walked to the library, a dusty, dark room with bookshelves half-full spanning from the floor to the ceiling. The walls were covered with rich dark oak paneling, and an Erisdar chandelier hung over a long glass table. On the table was Eragon's own copy of _Domia abr Wyrda_, left open in the middle of a prattling chapter about elves, which was sadly mostly fiction.

Eragon and Arya sat down at the table in adjacent chairs. His had found hers, but the talked as if neither of them noticed it.

"I was thinking about the memory we saw," Arya began. "When you returned from Vroengard, you mentioned seeing a procession of hooded figures walking among the ruins. I caught an impression that something similar was involved from Ayel's mind."

"Lanterns," muttered Eragon. "A ritual… no, a vigil. Yes, I remember. It's possible, but we still don't know who they were."

"Ayel may be our answer."

Maybe, but it's probably best that we let him remember on his own. After all, there is a chance we're wrong."

They sat in silence for a moment. Every few seconds Eragon would see flashes from Saphira and though he'd experienced it before, it still served to bring heat to the tips of his ears. "Perhaps dragons can mate for life," said Arya, gazing out the window with a faraway look in her eyes.

"And elves?" Eragon raised an eyebrow.

She smiled coquettishly. "Perhaps." Spurred on by her proximity, Eragon leaned in to kiss her, but she dodged backward, teasing him. Her hair was tied back, but much of it still hung over her forehead and the sides of her face, swaying like pine branches in a breeze. "I am not so easily entrapped, O Rider." Eragon saw a playful gleam in her eyes, a mischievous purse to her lips that he had not seen since years ago, when they had both gotten drunk on the elf Wyrden's special faelnirv.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked quizzically, a sinister edge creeping into his voice.

Arya stood. "Indeed." She reached forward and undid the top button of his collar, just to prove she was still faster than him, and then danced back, making for the door. "Catch me if you can." The elf turned and raced out of the library. Eragon pushed his chair back and leapt up to give chase, a foolish grin already spreading on his face. He cleared the door and spotted Arya, black hair aflying, moving quickly down the hallway toward the next corner, which led past the infirmary to the dining hall.

Running after her, Eragon turned the corner with his hands as much as his feet, swinging around the bend for additional speed. Ever ahead of him, Arya flung open the doors to the dining hall commons, and seconds later he shouldered through them close behind her. Past the couches and down the aisle between the long tables they ran, feinting and ducking around pillars like children. Eragon got close enough and reached out, missing Arya's shoulder by a hairsbreadth. Arya laughed, clear and ringing, bending like a cat to avoid his grasp. Then they were out the main doors and she made a hard left. And another. They bolted down the selfsame hallway they had started in, from the opposite direction.

Eragon caught her when they reached the library threshold, jumping nimbly and tackling her at the waist. Arya squealed in amusement and turned, kicking his legs from under him so that he cushioned her fall. They rolled upon the stone floor, wrestling like dogs fighting for scraps. Occasionally their lips would meet during the melee. Tumbling into the library itself, soft carpet began to shield them from the hard stone floor, while also slowing their general momentum. Now Arya's mouth stayed against Eragon's without much trouble. Even with the erratic, jarring experience of rolling haphazardly through the room, Eragon could feel her respond to the contact. Eventually they came to a halt, and his head bumped against his discarded chair. Arya, half on top of him, pulled away. Both of them grinned.

After a moment during which they held each other's gaze, Eragon gave her a slanted look and, in a high, snooty voice, said: "We can never be, Eragon… forget me and focus on your training, Eragon… we're friends and nothing more, Eragon."

Arya flinched, but then a sheepish smile made its way onto her face. "Perhaps both of us were fools then," she said, giving him a hand up but pushing him into the chair so that she could sit on his lap.

"We're all fools at one time or another," said Eragon, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"True, but that doesn't make it any better when it is your turn to play dunce." Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry for how I always treated you when you tried to talk with me."

He smiled. "What does it matter now?"

Another moment passed. They seemed content to sit in quiet companionship.

Suddenly a sharp noise broke the silence. Eragon's head snapped to the side and Arya leapt to her feet, her hand on Támerlein's pommel. They both found its source, a small, round object on the table beside them. Ayel was leaning casually against the doorway, pretending to study his nails. Eragon had no idea how long his student had been standing there.

"What is that?" asked Arya.

Ayel grinned. "It's my rock."


	5. Chapter Four: In With the Tide

**Wow! over 5,000 words! That's pretty darn long for me. thanks for the reviews and views, everyone! Extra long chapter to placate your hunger after a long wait!**

** middleearthmidget: I know, right? I read your story and that opening inspired Arya's half of my prologue. That line was so good, I couldn't leave it out!**

** everyone else: Just a general THANKS!**

**Without further ado... this chapter contains:**

**-New Riders and dragons**

**-The hatchling gets a voice**

**-A certain cheeky trainee**

**-shipping setup banter**

**-and Eragon reads palms Oromis-style!**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4: In With the Tide**

**Ayel**

_Explosions rocked the ancient stone ruins. Earth and rock were tossed into the air like seeds being sown unto the land below. People ran in between the spires in their panic, ducking to avoid debris. Black-robed figures moved in the crowd, torchlight glinting off their weapons. There were others, much fewer, in robes of navy blue – but they were cut down when they tried to fight; having been ambushed on a skeleton guard. _

_The boy left his younger sisters in an abandoned fox den, hiding in the undergrowth at the tree line of the jungle. They reached for him as he ran out, too scared to follow. He weaved around the boulders and chunks of masonry, his dark brown clothing blending in with wood where there was any. On his short legs, he caught up to his father, who held a lantern in one hand and a naked sword in the other. _

_ "__What are you doing here, son?" he said quietly. His chiseled face was beset by a ghost of a beard; he was, in essence, his son in adult form. "Get back to safety with the others. The jungle is better than the streets for you. Go," he said sternly as his urgings were met with a stalwart expression._

_ "__I want to fight." Another blast hit the ground. The boy didn't move._

_His father dropped the lantern to steer him around by the shoulder. "You're too young, Ayel. This is no place for an eleven-year-old. I swear to you by Vrael's seat on high that none of our enemies will show you mercy. Now get out of here!" As he gave the boy a firm shove, sending him reeling into the shadows, a cloaked man leapt from the other end of the courtyard, wielding a pale, leaf-shaped blade. Ayel's father cursed, sidestepped the reaching apex of the sword, and slew his assailant with a single, powerful thrust to the gut. He managed to pull his sword free in time to block the next enemy's opening strike. They stumbled, trying to find purchase among the loose stone beneath them while also attempting to effectively kill each other._

_Ayel ran behind a pillar and watched, unwilling to leave as well as fascinated by his father's prowess. The enemy came at him from all sides, but he slew one after another, using their numbers to crowd them together and fight one at a time. When they fell, he noticed most were not human – something black and shriveled and dark. One of them, the first one to die, was shinier – like a beetle – and had an enormous beak protruding from its cowl. He shuddered. Only the legends and songs of men could bring to life in his mind what he saw… before today. The creatures his father fought, including but not limited to the (luckily) single Ra'zac, were bred to kill. _

_A shout from the boy's sire; a new combatant had entered the observatory. His compatriots having all been slain, he drew his own weapon to engage the lone defender of the city. This challenger was a tall, broad-shouldered human man, wedded to war and armored for it in twisted black plates, resembling the nature of his minions. From his shoulders hung a black mantle, and on his head was a red helm in the shape of a dragon's head. Steely eyes glinted from its maw._

_ "__Melkaroth," said Ayel's father. "I should have known. What do you hope to accomplish by this siege?"_

_The metal-clad giant smiled. "You once swore that one of your line would bring an end to me. I only came to insure that your oath remains unfulfilled." He paused, as if thoughtful. "Oh, yes… and to take the city, kill your men, and enslave your women and children." He struck with a long broadsword, matte black and already smeared with red from previous conquests. It moved impossibly fast, but was deflected expertly. "Come now, Cassius," Melkaroth intoned, sounding bored and tired. "It's useless."_

_Cassius made a sign with his left hand. "I am duty-bound as a steward of the Order to bring you to justice, Dark Lord. With the spirits of the Riders as my witness, I will try." The two men exchanged blows, but neither found an advantage. Oddly, they fought like old friends who knew each other's style so well they couldn't gain any ground. Although Cassius' armor was meager compared to his opponent's – a tunic, bracers, and greaves made of leather – he faced him unafraid._

_ "__This really is a waste of our time," said Melkaroth, his voice as deep as the fire shafts of Aras Thelduin. "Where is your son?"_

_ "__The Khastelan line will not fall to you, parasite." Cassius' tone was cold and angry. He slashed diagonally across Melkaroth's chestplate, but the claymore was wide enough to turn his blade away. _

_ "__So futile," sighed Melkaroth with a tone of mild regret. He raised a hand and uttered, "Garjzla!" A shaft of black light lanced from his palm and speared Cassius through the heart, so that he fell to his knees and died._

_ "__No!" the boy cried out. He drew a short hunting knife from his scuffed leather belt and flung himself over his father's body. Melkaroth's eyes widened, the satisfaction melting off his face. In his surprise he was given enough pause so that Ayel's strike could land, glancing off his flanged pauldron and leaving a long scratch that shone silver where the black finish was chipped._

_An armored hand seized the boy's throat, lifted him up to eye level with the black-garbed warrior, and began to ever so slightly choke him. "Interesting," Melkaroth mused. "Perhaps you'll live so you may be broken." He barked a twisted, harsh command in another language: two cloaked soldiers sprang out from behind the pillars and snatched the boy, beaks clicking nastily. A blow landed in his head, and darkness took him._

Ayel's eyes snapped open as the floor rushed up to meet him. It jarred his body on impact, but he managed to turn his face aside so he wouldn't break his nose on the hardwood. A mess of black hair fell in front of him, almost long enough to get in the way of his eyes. He levered himself up, sitting with his back to the bed. The darkness of the early morning and the vivid memory he'd dreamed unnerved him. He did not want to move or expose his spine.

A questing tendril touched his mind. It was the dragon, watching him from its perch across the room. Over the week its squeaks had deepened into roars, its claws and fangs lengthened into daggers, its scales hardened like iron. Its shoulder had been level with his elbow the day before; soon it would be big enough to ride in the air. Eragon and Arya had remarked that it grew faster than they had thought it would.

He waved it off, but, when it persisted, grudgingly showed it the memory. After a moment a voice entered the bridge between their minds. _Ayel._ It was distinctly male, and not as deep as Fírnen's, but surprisingly musical. It had a kind of rumbling undertone that made it seem like a bass chord was being struck with every word.

The boy blinked. _Did you just speak to me?_

_I don't know. Did I? _The dragon stared at him, unmoving.

_I didn't know you could. Am I right in thinking you're male?_

_Yes. _A puff of smoke drifted out if the dragon's nostrils as he snorted.

_Would you like a name?_

_My name is Jeran._

This took Ayel by surprise. Most dragons, apparently, were named by their Riders. _You knew that?_

_I always have. _Jeran sounded rather amused. _Did you not expect it of me?_

_Not exactly,_ said Ayel, getting to his feet and pulling on his leggings and tunic. _It never occurred to me that you might already have one, that's all. How long have you been able to think in words?_

_Not long. We're growing._

_Aye. Pretty quickly, from what I heard._

_It's because we have to._

_What?_

_I don't know. I just thought it._

Belting on Hljödhr, Ayel opened the door to the chamber. Jeran jumped down and padded alongside him, claws clicking against the stone floor of the hallway as they walked to the training field. The sun peeked over the edge of the horizon and faintly shone through the windows, bathing the passageway in a pale yet warm light. They were able to enjoy speaking back and forth about the events of the previous days, rather than using emotions, impressions, and pictures: a lengthy and annoying impediment at the best of times.

Over the past days, Arya and Eragon had put Ayel and Jeran through their paces to reach the end of tuatha du orothrim before the arrival of their fellow students. Each morning, Ayel and Jeran would split up to be coached separately. Sometimes Ayel stayed with Arya and Eragon and Jeran flew with Fírnen and Saphira, sometimes the other way around. Today, whichever it turned out to be, would be as grueling as those before it.

With Eragon, Ayel first went into the forest and opened his mind to the life there for one hour. The resulting flood of information was usually chaotic and frustrating, but what he managed to glean he told Eragon on his return. There would be a duel, sometimes with Arya and sometimes with Eragon. Ayel would lose, and then Arya would sit him down and instruct him on various terms of magic. A mock wizard's duel would be staged, and by then the dragons would join them.

With Fírnen and Saphira, Ayel would fly on one of their backs and listen to them explain flight patterns and battle tactics on dragonback. He'd also learn the history of dragonkind and many things about them – this was where the Eldunarí would pitch in. Later he'd merge with their many minds and observe memory after memory. Some of these he was not sure how to react to, others had a clear point from the moment he began to experience them. As for the Eldunarí themselves, Glaedr and Umaroth were the most talkative to him, with a businesslike teaching attitude. The others regarded him and his past with wary caution, although Valdr seemed rather fond of him and Jeran.

When they met up after being alone, Ayel would exchange information with Jeran and them they would all duel mentally in different combinations. The remaining time was spent drilling Ayel with scenarios involving enemies and other encounters. Once his strategy was satisfactory, he was dismissed with any number of scrolls to read on everything from the ancient language's grammar structure to the clan rituals of Urgals.

The pace was rigorous, but Ayel was determined and threw himself into his studies. To compete in this world was life or death, and he was jumping on the bandwagon late, so he did his best to excel. Jeran was well-rounded in most examination, but had a brazen, reckless pride that spawned not arrogance but mere overconfidence. Ayel, when he could focus, was able to sense and defend himself from other minds easily. His forest vigils were somewhat more fruitless, owing to a short attention span, but his skill with a sword improved exponentially. Unfortunately, he was still far inferior to the likes of Eragon and Arya. If he lost too painfully, he reminded himself that the only way he'd improve was by fighting people better than him. Nevertheless, the repeated sensation of Brisingr or Támerlein at his throat stung his pride even more than his skin. He enjoyed his flights with the dragons, basking in the radiant landscape and feeling pure joy come off them in waves as they cartwheeled through the sky. The memories of the Eldunarí were particularly comforting – after all, he hardly had any of his own.

Despite his affinity for his lessons, Ayel was often easily distracted and paid the price for it in many a sparring match, mental or physical. Today, though, he seemed to do no wrong, apart from what was to be expected. As the hours wore on, he and Jeran began to shape into a much more effective pair, bolstered by the introduction of Jeran's speech. They constantly confided in one another, and soon they were each other's balm for every frustration. Ayel reined in Jeran and advised him on common sense, while Jeran pushed Ayel to be more confident and aggressive, especially in fighting. The day passed, then another just as quickly. With the morning after, the end of the thirteen day period arrived – the day that the _Talíta_ would come into port in the evening. Dawn broke with the heralding cry that, come sunset, a host of Riders, dragons, and others were at hand.

It was Ayel and Jeran who saw them first.

They were out on the jetty, and Ayel was practicing with a saddle, repeatedly fastening and removing it from Jeran's midriff. Jeran, to his credit, was patient outwardly, but Ayel could tell he was amused as his Rider struggled with the buckles and straps. _Maybe if you try about a hundred more times, you'll be able to get it without pinching your fingers in the clasp._

_Oh, shut up, you. _Ayel grimaced, his hands throbbing. _You can move now. I'm not taking it off until my thumbs heal._

The amber dragon sniffed the loop meant to hold Ayel's foot and then scratched at the saddle itself._ It's itchy. Can't you find another one?_

_You said all the others were "itchy" too. Until you grow some more, you'll have to deal with it. _Ayel sat down hard and leaned against the wooden posts of the guardrail, letting the breath whoosh out of his lungs. The sky was clear and the sun bright, beating the earth below them with waves of heat and thick air. Occasionally a breeze would offer some relief. It wasn't unbearable, but it was hot enough for Jeran, as a dragon, to be comfortable. Said dragon yawned and stretched like a cat. The three days since he'd started talking had seen him grow to Ayel's shoulder. The two hadn't flown yet, but today was as good a day as any… after a breather. They had been jumping through hoops for Eragon and Arya all morning, sparring, flying, wizard's duels, you name it – all to cram them with leftover knowledge in preparation for the arrival of the _Talíta_.

_What's that? _Jeran asked suddenly.

_What's what?_

_That sort of… speck. On the water._

_Let me see. _Ayel transferred his consciousness to Jeran's looking out with dragon eyesight and trying to ignore the even more prominent yellows and reds that screamed at him. When he saw the "speck" cutting through the water, his breath caught in his chest. Returning to his own mind, he sent a mental blast to all who could hear. _They're they are!_

Arya's voice answered instantly. _So soon?_

_We're coming, _Eragon assured him. _Hold on._

_No way, _said Jeran. _Ayel, get on my back. _The dragon stood up quickly. He was poised for takeoff, eagerly leaning into the wind.

_Are you sure?_

_You've flown before, yes?_

_With Saphira and Fírnen._

_Then climb on. I can hold you. _Jeran snorted sparks and crouched. Ayel swung into the saddle without hesitation. It was accommodating but heat from the sun burned through his leggings. He tugged at the collar of his tunic with his free hand, the cyan fabric as soft as anything beneath this fingers. With his other hand he buckled in his legs. _I'm good. Let's go!_

Jeran spread his wings and Ayel was immediately pitched backward as the dragon rose into the air, faster than he'd expected. Wind streamed past him, buffeting and forceful, yet exhilarating. He leaned to the side, and Jeran corkscrewed with it, a hitch of clumsiness involved due to his unfamiliarity with Ayel's added weight. When they righted themselves, they pulled into a steep dive, swooping past the _Talíta's_ broadside. A few elves shouted things like, "Argetlam!" or "Hail, Shur'tugal!" as they passed. Jeran rolled and listed upwards to gain altitude, beating his wings furiously against the air currents.

Ayel looked over his shoulder instinctively and saw patches of color shooting from the white ship. Here black, here purple, here silver, here brown. One by one the other dragons roared. Jeran answered at a slightly different octave, higher or lower depending on the dragon. As they twisted for a half turn and joined the group, about to dive again, Ayel couldn't help but shout for pure joy. He'd never flown this fast or recklessly before. A few of the other Riders shouted back, prompting him to look around. To his right were two humans: a thin girl and a bulky, dark-skinned boy. Beyond them was a smaller girl, whom he guessed to be a dwarf. To his left was a Urgal. _An Urgal! Eragon told me, but I didn't know I'd meet one of them as a Rider this fast! _When the Kull roared himself, he didn't sound too far off from the dragons.

The five shot upwards out of their free fall, coasting above them mountains with the citadel of Doru Breoaldras in full view. Sunlight glistened on the after and the colored windows of the Hall sent rays of gemstone hue onto the cliffs. Two more roars shook the sky, louder and deeper than the ones preceding. Saphira and Fírnen rose from the pinnacle of the dragonroost, the enormous dragons dwarfing their students. They took the lead point in the formation and banked right, leading the dragons in single file under the overhang behind the fortress. The training field passed below them, but before Ayel knew it, it was ahead of him again, as Jeran screamed into a vertical dive, following the other dragons and righting himself just in time to land.

The moment the dragon's claws touched soft grass, Ayel muttered "Huildr neíat," and the buckles holding his legs undid themselves.

Jeran huffed. _Showoff. _Ayel held up his thumbs and wiggled them in answer as he dismounted, looking around. Wind ruffled his hair and the turf beneath his feet. The overhang jutted out a third of the way across the clearing and the ground below it was flat and trampled from his duels with Eragon and Arya. Once out from under it, after about twenty yards the rocks began to appear and a steady incline brought to bear with the other end of the peak. The whole area was something like thirty-four yards in diameter, meaning it was large enough to fit many dragons, no exception to its present inhabitants.

Ayel was closest to the dwarven girl. She was not plump, but stout, and her blond tresses were braided into a dragon's tail. A symbol of crossed hammer and tongs was embroidered into her kirtle. She smiled, as if she was genuinely happy to see him even though she didn't know him. "Hello! You look better. Last time we saw you, you were out cold."

"And bleeding into the sand," added a gruff voice behind her. Up close, the Kull was like a wall of ochre skin, tattoos, and teeth. Two gnarled horns sprouted from thick black hair on his head. His muscles strained at his Shrrgskin jerkin. Although intimidating, he wasn't being outwardly aggressive, and Ayel had nothing against Urgals, so he held out his hand and found his entire forearm encased in a meaty fist. "Vaas," growled the giant. "We've met, but as Astrid so brilliantly pointed out, you were half dead."

"Some people –" Ayel jerked his head to Arya and Eragon. "- would argue that I still am, at least in my brain." The three of them laughed. "I'm Ayel. Well met." He exchanged similar greetings at Ithros and Ragnar, respectively the black and brown dragons, introduced themselves. Ithros's voice was a low, raspy rumble to match his heavyset appearance, while Ragnar had a higher voice than Jeran, sounding youthful even as an older dragon. He was gangly and had the look of a young stag in the fall. Jeran took to them quickly, and soon the three dragons were playfully shouldering each other quite hard. Ragnar body-slammed Jeran, who did the same to Ithros, who hit him back with such force that he was sent careening into Ragnar again. It was all very amusing.

A rippling pennant of fire split up the brawling dragons. Ayel felt the heat even though it came nowhere close to him. It had a silvery hue and he realized it came from the dragon of the same color. Its Rider, the human girl, was an arresting beauty, with burnished tawny hair and tan skin that stood out against her grey tunic and leggings. She walked alongside her dragon with easy confidence. "Can't you wait until we're _allowed_ to kill each other?" she said, smiling wryly.

The silver dragon only sniffed. _Boys, _said a feminine voice in Ayel's head. She managed to hold together a tone that was both smug and disapproving.

_Shut up, Thera,_ said Ragnar.

"Ragnar!" Astrid snapped. Thera gave a draconian laugh and lashed her tail back and forth, crouching as if to pounce.

_Come on, Astrid. She's baiting me, _the brown dragon whined.

Astrid turned to Thera's Rider helplessly. "Opheila…"

"Sorry." Opheila elbowed her dragon in the neck. Thera straightened, the picture of well-behaved puzzlement.

_What?_

At this, a purple gout of flame blazed to life and set fire to the grass in front of Thera. She stepped back as the fourth dragon, besides Jeran, approached. _If we're done conducting ourselves like hatchlings, I think our esteemed masters are waiting on us, _she said. The dark-skinned boy was leaning against her flank. He was tall and had muscle to spare, and most of his curly black hair was shaved, leaving him bald from a distance. He wore a vest and trousers – gypsy garb – which meant he had to hail from the desert or Surda. When the others' eyes traveled to him, he motioned to where Arya and Eragon stood with their arms crossed. They beckoned to the group and walked to some chairs that had been set out.

Ayel, who was probably the most comfortable around Eragon and Saphira (if not Arya and Fírnen, which he most likely wasn't), headed over to them without missing a beat. On the way, he clapped the boy on the shoulder, smirking. "Relax, cupcake. I'm sure _one_ of us can win them over." The purple she-dragon let out a short hiss as he kept moving.

Behind him, he heard Vaas chuckle. "Cheeky. Naroki almost ate him."

"I like him," said Opheila's voice. "One of us is most likely going to kill him, but I like him."

Once he reached the chairs, Ayel sat down across from Eragon and Arya with an exaggeratedly casual demeanor. "What's up, teach?" he grinned.

Arya's expression was of disbelief, mild disgust, and grim amusement all at once. Eragon fought down a similar medley and managed to look stern. "Ayel…"

"Right. Sorry." Ayel sat up straight as his fellow students filed into the seats around him. The dragons sat on their haunches behind the chairs.

"Welcome," said Eragon, addressing them all. "I'm sure you all know exactly why you're here. Dragons," he looked at each of them. "Your choices determined who I'm talking to right now. The task for each of you – _both_ of each of you – is to heed your obligation to help those who are not so lucky as we are." He folded his hands in front of him, a seemingly businesslike gesture but Ayel recognized it as a nervous tic. "You were taught by Arya through tuatha du orothrim. My job is to prepare you for that which you haven't already been educated about. I am Eragon. This is Saphira." He paused as Saphira extended her greetings.

_Well met, little ones. _Her calming voice eased the other dragons and their Riders into returning the formality. After he and Arya joined in, Eragon continued.

"I won't make a terrible fuss about rules or requirements, but I expect the same degree of respect you afford to your other teachers of craft. Fortunately, Arya has told me we won't have a problem there.

"There are a few things I want you to remember. The first is: always ask questions. What we do – especially concerning magic – is volatile enough that if you try something and don't know what it will do for certain… well, you know what will happen then. Second, share everything with your partner. Third, the students and dragons surrounding you are not just your comrades but your family. And fourth," he spread his hands. "Arya and I, as well as the elves, aren't here to be tough on you. We're not just your teachers; we're your friends. Try not to get all uptight when we're around, savvy?" He flashed a rakish smile and the initiates visibly relaxed. "All good? Then I think we can start. We have a little time before the ship comes into port." He sat back in his chair and stared at them in complete silence. Ayel put his hands behind his head and leaned back, resting. Eragon had done this same thing before, when her first started, to test how long he could wait.

Jeran stretched out on the grass, smoke trailing from his nostrils. The other dragons shifted, uncomfortable. "Cupcake" was as quiet as usual, and Vaas sat rigid with a warrior's iron discipline. Opheila glanced at Ayel, saw he was relaxed, and nudged Astrid, who had been about to say something. Respectively, Naroki, Ithros, and Ragnar managed to sit still after realizing what was going on.

Eragon kept them there for a few more minutes, and then spoke. "You've all got patience, or are at least observant enough to pick it up. Either way, that's good. Now, my master once told me you could tell a lot about a person by their hands. I'd like to see all of yours." He took "Cupcake's" first. "Beq, am I right?" Beq nodded, looking slightly uneasy. After a second or two of studying, Eragon said, "Am I correct in saying these things – first, that you've been a blacksmith's apprentice for at least five years, second, that you're left handed, and third, that the man who taught you to fight and forge also freed you from slavery?"

Beq finally spoke, in a rough, clipped accent. "I was a thrall until I was ten."

"You fight with a shield, yes?"

"On my right arm."

"A normal round shield, or a buckler?"

"Usually buckler."

"That explains the broken forearm," Eragon concluded. "Hit someone a little hard, eh?"

With a sharp nod, Beq actually half smiled. "I hit the wall behind him."

Opheila leaned over. "He could tell all that by just looking at his hands?" she murmured.

"He's got to at least _think_ he's smart to waste his time teaching sods like me," Ayel said jokingly. This elicited a soft, amused sound from Opheila, but she didn't keep talking because Eragon had moved to Vaas and was speaking.

"I can guess you were brought up in the typical way from these warrior's hands you've got. You do prefer a greatsword or claymore in battle?"

"Aye. My blade is as tall and almost as wide as you, Firesword." The Kull chuckled, his fangs showing between his lips.

"You have use of your right and left hands, but more so your right over the other. Fighting in this way, you've defeated enough opponents to be considered legible, although the last one scarred you on your chest. Recently, I might add."

Vaas, whose jerkin covered his chest (but showed his tattoos in full display), grunted in surprise. "What gave it away?"

"You've got phantom pain," explained Eragon. "That's when your nerves under the scar tissue get confused and play the last signal they received: the pain of the wound. You keep shifting your arms to protect the spot, ever so slightly."

Here the massive Urgal growled, but not in a threatening way. "Is this necessary, ebrithil? I'd rather not be read like this."

"Don't worry, I've found out all I need to know." Eragon released Vaas' enormous fists and went to Astrid. "May I?" She allowed him to take her delicate wrists in his hands. "You've done less fighting than the others, but you're still accustomed to your axe. Am I right?"

Astrid nodded shyly. "Cutting firewood more than anything else," she admitted.

"Firewood's not too different from a person's spine –" Vaas started to explain, but was interrupted by Astrid's appalled mew.

"Yes, yes, we can talk about spines later," said Eragon hastily. "Astrid, you are more or less ambidextrous, am I right?" she nodded. "But you wield a single double-bladed axe with a two-handed grip? Okay, that's all I need." He scooted over to Opheila, who gave him her hands. "Opheila. You've done some fighting with daggers, but mostly would rather use a sword and shield, correct?"

She grinned wolfishly. "Why not both at once?"

He returned it, but in a less predatorial manner. "Then I'm going to guess you like to outthink when you can, instead of outfight." He studied her palms for another second. "I'm seeing a one-handed shortsword and a round shield. You're right handed?"

"I am."

"Alright. That about wraps it up." He returned to his original seat and leaned back against his chair. "We'll get swords for you that want them, and Astrid and Vaas, we'll get Rhünon to rework a blade or two to get you Brightsteel weapons."

"Doubtless she'll grumble about the whole time," Arya cut in after her long silence.

"Wait – what about him?" Opheila jerked her thumb toward Ayel.

Ayel picked up Hljödhr and waved it in the air pointedly. "I've already got one. Guess I'm just ahead of the curve."

Eragon shrugged. "More like: you're also ambidextrous, never had enough to eat, and fight like you have a death wish." He got up from his seat. "Blöhdgarm tells me they've come aground. Shall we?" Saphira followed him across the field.

Since he'd heard it all before, when Eragon examined his hands the day he woke up, Ayel had laughed as Eragon repeated what he'd been able to glean then. On the inside, though, he wished his teacher hadn't said anything. _I suppose it's only fair that they know as much about me as I do about them, since I heard everything he said just now, but I can't shake this discomfort that I only know a little more about myself than they do._

Jeran got to his feet. _You couldn't expect it to take long. You'll be training together, after all. Sooner or later they'll find out anyways. Like, are you really going to throw a fit if one of them see you shirtless from behind and happens to notice those weird scars on your back?_

_The ones Arya swears were left by a nine-tailed whip? _Ayel sighed as he stood and began walking after Eragon. _In what conceivable situation would that happen?_

_You never know._

_No, _Ayel thought bitterly. _I don't. _He turned to look behind him at the others, pushing his vulnerability away. "So, welcome to dragon training," he said, spreading his arms with a smile. "Last one to the jetty is a rotten egg."


	6. Chapter Five Part One: Old Friends

**Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews! I apologize for the long wait, but I've bee incredibly busy with final exams and on top of that this is shaping up top be a difficult sequence to write. I also and sorry for the crappily small chapter, but I wanted you guys to have something to read. So here you go!**

**Chapter 5: Old Friends**

**Eragon**

Eragon threw open the doors of the citadel to welcome the crowd of people outside. The elves joined him and took up positions on either side of the hallway. He skimmed the mob, noticing faces behind the vanguard: Nasuada, Orik, Grimrr Halfpaw, Garzvhog, King Orrin, and Lord Däthedr. Däthedr had come as a second for Arya; after all, the elves had to have a representative who wasn't a Rider. So they said. In reality, Eragon wasn't bothered much by the elf's attendance. He liked Däthedr and had fought with him before, and at least it wasn't Fiolr or another of the council he didn't respect quite as much.

Each of the world leaders had brought two guards. Eragon recognized some of them. They included Nasuada's Nighthawks; Lifaen and Narí; and some of the dwarves that had accompanied Eragon through Farthen Dur when the grimstzborith was being chosen. They parted so that their charges could come forward and Eragon was bombarded. Nasuada launched herself into his arms, hugging him like a sister who sees her brother return from the dead. Orik charged forward and executed a similar maneuver, except a little more… dwarvish. "Mine brother!" he yelled, punching Eragon in the shoulder. "It is good stone on which we meet again! Where is Saphira?" Saphira bugled behind him. "There she is!" the dwarf king roared, and raced to meet her.

Chuckling, Eragon regained his balance. "Good to see you too, Orik." He flashed a smile at Nasuada as she went to greet Arya and nodded to Grimrr as he stalked by to poke Yelloweyes, who was still following Nasuada around. Garzvhog bellowed in a feral way and gave the Rider a hearty slap on the back, looming over his friend.

"Firesword! You build a mighty village!" He looked over Eragon's shoulder, spotted Vaas, and came at him like a siege engine. The two Kull locked horns and pushed with gusto. Garzvhog roared again, and Vaas roared back. They straightened and smashed their chests together, laughing roughly.

Däthedr approached and touched his fingers to his lips, which Eragon returned. The elf then surprised him by twisting his hand over his chest in the gesture of fealty. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Shadeslayer."

"And may the stars watch over you," said Eragon in the ancient language. The elf passed to meet his queen. Orrin, who was likewise en passé, gave the Rider a curt nod.

"Silverhand. Hoping I meet you well." _The bastard has grown a beard! It makes him look almost mature and distinguished… _

_Let us hope he's changed his nature as much as his appearance, _Saphira sniffed.

After extending his pleasantries to Orrin, Eragon waded into the throng and found his target: Roran. His cousin was still halfway shaven and very muscular, and held a squirming Ismira in his arms. The young girl had grown a shock of red hair and echoed her mother. Katrina was close behind the two of them. "Roran! Katrina!" He called. They looked up, spotted him, and shouldered past the people in front of them.

Roran put Ismira down to wrap his cousin in a bear hug. "Eragon. Good to see you in person."

"It's been too long," added Katrina. She and Eragon embraced. In back of them, he heard Roran suddenly shout.

"Oi! Ismira! Get back – oh, bugger!" The toddler was climbing on Saphira's leg and spine, swinging from the spike on her back and laughing uproariously. Saphira was watching with such affection and amusement that Eragon felt the impulse to keel over and guffaw uncontrollably like a fool in a mad king's court.

_Oh, let her go, Roran, _said the sapphire dragon. _I'll make sure she doesn't hurt herself._

Roran looked a bit uncomfortable about leaving his only daughter in the charge of a three-ton dragon, but Katrina patted him on the arm and he relented. "Alright, Saphira. Don't let her eat anything unnatural." Saphira hastily put a talon between Ismira and the brightly colored flowers that had already taken command of her attention span. Eragon clapped Roran on the shoulder as they made their way toward the front of the crowd. "I'm going to get this show on the road. Come one." He made a beeline for the doors a Roran and Katrina gravitated over to Nasuada. On his way, he spotted Angela the witch with Solembum in tow, and stopped to say hello.

"Hello to you too," said the curly-haired herbalist, who was now wearing the snood she'd been knitting when he last saw her. "Quite an operation you've got here. I'm glad I hopped on the bandwagon early." she pinched his cheek abruptly. "Watch out for rabid gerbils!" and the pranced after Roran and Katrina. Solembum regarded Eragon with lidded eyes.

_Kingkiller._

_Solembum. Nice to see you._

_Is it? _The werecat flicked his tail and padded away.

When Eragon was done shaking his head at the two of them, he reached the main gates and turned to address those in the square. A mite of apprehension reared in his chest as all eyes fell on him, but he ignored it. Swallowing, he cleared his throat and spoke. "If someone told me three years ago that today we'd be where we are, doing what we're doing, I'd have laughed in his face and sent him to muck out the Varden's stables!" This brought a chaste laugh from most of the crowd. Eragon grinned at having broken the ice and continued. "Elves, humans, dwarves, Urgals, werecats. We were once united under one banner because of the Riders' legacy. Now, though we need make no pledges or promises, I hope to be united again by their rebirth." He pointed to where Ayel, Opheila, Vaas, Astrid, and Beq stood by their dragons. "These young people and dragons are as we once were: untried, untested, and only beginning to assume their duties. Let us embrace them as our peoples embraced us – and as the Varden embraced me.

"Each of you," he looked at the leaders in turn. "Has a contribution to the Riders. Each of you, also, will receive out aid and honor because of it. In that spirit, we welcome you." Eragon spread his hands. "And hope you find all you seek from us in our walls. For now, wander as you will; mingle, meet and explore. I will join us all once again this evening for a feast." He stepped down as the applause echoed off the walls of the castle, and went to where his students were arrayed. "For now, you can fly if you wish, or stay here and talk with the people," he said to them in a quieter voice. "Doubtless they'll ask for demonstrations or tours of the citadel. Don't feel obligated to comply, but stay within the parameters of politeness, yeah?" He shrugged.

_Should we make sure your meeting with the kings and queens isn't disturbed? _asked Naroki.

"If it comes to that," Eragon said. "Standing guard is alrigh-"

_I'm on it, _said Jeran eagerly, bounding to the doors.

Ragnar growled playfully. _I'm on it first! _The brown dragon lunged at the amber, and the two tumbled into the dirt for the second time that day. Astrid ran over to her unruly dragon, while Ayel just shook his head, bemused. Beq and Naroki went to stand some distance away, and Ithros lumbered off to where Vaas was talking avidly with Garzvhog in the Urgal language. Opheila smirked at the brawl, and she and Thera struck up a conversation with Angela and Solembum, who materialized out of nowhere as usual.

Eragon sighed and clapped Ayel on the shoulder. "Make sure they don't kill anyone, okay?" The dark-haired youth nodded and went to chastise Jeran. The elves dispersed, and most of the people in the square seemed content to hang around doing this and that. Meanwhile, Eragon beckoned to Arya and Fírnen, and when they joined him Saphira came up from the other side, having deposited Ismira into Katrina's arms. The Rider sent a mental shout to the leaders arrayed in the crowd. Garzvhog, Nasuada, and Orik, who were familiar with his consciousness, let down their defenses, but Orrin, Däthedr, and Grimrr did not. the plan was that if they were attacked, the leaders were to combine their minds and defend as one, so when the elf, human, and werecat joined together and launched a hasty counterattack, Eragon had to avoid them and shoot up hasty barriers of his own. _Stop, it's me!_

_Our apologies, Shadeslayer, _purred Däthedr's voice in his head. _We simply did not look before we responded to what we thought was a mindbreaker's assault. _They allowed him access, Grimrr wary, Orrin resigned, and the elf himself simply indifferent.

_Sorry, I just don't want us to be heard. If you would all follow me… _He gestured with his body to the hallway through the doors behind him. They filed in behind him as he led them to the conference summit.


	7. Chapter Five Part Two: Voicing Concerns

**Chapter Five Part Two: Voicing Concerns**

**Eragon**

The Summit was one of the highest-altitude chambers in the fortress. It was positioned two empty floors under the spire of the dragonroost. The room was shaped like an octagon, with an identical table in the center. On the floor was an intricate mosaic, featuring the colors of each country behind where their leader was to sit. The tiles behind the Riders' seat were white, the color of Vrael's sword and Umaroth, his dragon. The Empire was purple, the elves green, the Dwarves a deep maroon, the Urgals black, and Surda orange. The werecats had no colors; instead their tiles were frosted glass.

The Riders had two seats among the eight for one reason: Eragon and Arya essentially ran the Riders cooperatively. Hopefully in the future when Arya could come alone and in time with the others, she could take the elves' seat and the Riders' second chair would be filled by one of the senior students - once they could be considered so – or, if Eragon dared hope, Murtagh. For now, Arya sat with Eragon, and Däthedr was in the place of the elves.

When they were all seated, Eragon appraised his guests. To his right, Arya, in a green tunic and brown pants, with her black headband holding her sable tresses back from invading the airspace in front of her eyes. Beyond her was Däthedr, dressed in a robe of warm russet and tangerine, which gave the illusion that he was wearing a cloak of autumn leaves. Next to him was Grimrr, a sharp contrast; the small boy, as he appeared, was wearing a simple jerkin and loincloth. Garzvhog was directly across from Eragon and in full armor as always. Nasuada came after him, in one of her dresses: a simple black today. Orrin was beside her, in orange and white robes. Last was Orik, on Eragon's left, who was also wearing armor, albeit in a minimalist sense. He wore a mail hauberk and leggings, greaves, and bracers. _I wonder if their beards ever get caught between the links of the mail,_ thought Eragon.

_It's probably best not to ask about it, _said Saphira from where she and Fírnen squatted behind Eragon and Arya. With a yawn, she stretched and lay down. _Wake me if they say anything important, will you?_

_Sure._ The Rider turned his attention to the beings arrayed around the table. He smiled at them. "You know, the last time we were all in a room at once like this was back in Urû'baen. Remember?" They all made some type of affirmation. "Today I would like to talk about how we're going to work in Alagaësia. The Riders, that is. You've all agreed to the Order's servitude, but the way we'll manage this batch of students will determine future classes, and I will need your approval on an idea I had for where to teach them."

"Aren't you going to train and house them here?" asked Nasuada.

"Yes and no." He took a breath. "I believe that a change in location – as well as teachers – will help them develop the skills they need, just as going from Farthen Dur to Surda to Ellesméra helped me."

"What do you propose, Firesword?" rumbled Garzvhog. The Urgal chieftain had to halfway lean back, because if he put his entire weight on the table, it would flip over.

Eragon placed his hand on the tabletop and mouthed an incantation. The spell was similar to a mix of making a fairth and scrying. When he was done, the layer of glass above the wood rippled and an image appeared. It was a map of Alagaësia and the lands to the east he had discovered. "Here's what I have in mind," he said. As he spoke, the locations he mentioned would respectively glow, marking themselves in real time. "After we're done here, you'll be returning home, including Arya. I will train the students here. Once they're at a certain point, I'll travel with them to Ellesméra. Arya and I have discussed how she'll teach them there. Then she can take them to the village at Lake Fläm, and between there and Stavarosk, I thought you, Garzvhog, and your rams could continue to teach them fighting skills."

"Easy. That is probably the majority of what knowledge we can impart anyway." The Kull grinned, baring his fangs.

With a short laugh, Eragon went on. "From the Spine, they're to ride to Ilirea, where I'd hoped Nasuada could work with them on diplomacy, as well as escort missions, bodyguarding, things like that."

Nasuada nodded, looking thoughtful. "They might see more action than you think, but I can do it as long as those pesky assassins keep up their efforts."

"I thought you were going to get rid of them."

"But it's so interesting to see what kind of crazy plan they'll come up with next!"

Eragon sighed. "Moving on, I'd hoped next they could fly to Aberon. Maybe they could keep up the diplomacy with Orrin, and throw in some natural science there." He looked at the king in question. "If you're still into that kind of thing."

Orrin waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. No trouble at all."

"Fantastic. Orik, once they all reach the Beors, I thought they might continue diplomacy and also perhaps some metalworking and fighting."

Orik grunted. "Do you need armor for them as well?"

"Do I need…?" Eragon blinked. "You'd do that?"

"We made your armor."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. If you could have some put together, we'll owe you."

The dwarf king shook his head. "On the house. We can fit them here, and start on it when we get back to our forges."

"Whatever you have to do." Eragon touched the table and the map disappeared. "Now that we've got that out of the way, does anyone have anything to report?"

Garzvhog made a discontented growl. "My rams are growing restless. We should schedule the next games soon."

"Unless there's another war coming up," muttered Orrin.

"Why do you say that?" Arya inquired. Eragon jumped; she'd been so quiet he'd almost forgotten she was there.

The Surdan king glanced at Nasuada, who shrugged, and then continued. "Not long after we just recently reclaimed Aroughs from, like, their third revolt, I began to hear tell of strange happenings in the Empire as well as my own lands. Some of the southern isles have sent missives talking about changes in the current, some kind of werelight over the Boar's Eye, and listen to this –" he pulled out a sheet of parchment. "- I quote: 'The floating crystal at Eoam is taking on what appears to be a creeping disease in the stone. Originally, it is a yellowish-green, but a spiderweb pattern of black is spreading through the crystalline structure within the gem's molecular skeleton.' Essentially, the crystal's got some weird sort of black ooze spreading around inside of it." Orrin looked sideways at Orik. "Do you think one of your experts could have a look at it, grimstzborith?"

The dwarf nodded. "I'll send one of our diving ships over. The knurlan who study coral are very familiar with unnatural kinds of stone."

"Ah, but therein lies the other problem. The seas may not be safe anymore. I contacted Nasuada to see if _her_ port cities had been noticing anything and, well…" he gestured at Nasuada to pick up the conversation.

"A few of my magicians in Narda have reported sensing some kind of 'presence' in the distance somewhere. Most say it's out in the water, or across it. We also talked with a team of astronomers in Kuasta, and what they told us was… slightly disturbing." She took a breath. "Apparently, the stars above Vroengard are going out."

Eragon could not help himself. "But wouldn't we see the same stars here or anywhere else? They haven't gone out at any other location."

Presumably, when you look above Vroengard – or indeed _from_ Vroengard – they have." The young queen folded her hands on the table in front of her. "We sent a few of our physicians out there. None of them ever sent word or came back. Just two weeks ago, the wreckage of their ship washed up on our shores. "She set her mouth into a thin line. "Let's just say… all their _remains_ are accounted for. We know one thing for sure: they were killed by a magical attack of some kind, but no one can think of a spell that would have caused it. We have Du Vrangr Gata working on it right now, but they're not exactly qualified. If someone who knew more about magic could have a look, we would be grateful."

"I'm sure we can spare one or two of our spellweavers," said Däthedr. For a moment, no one made a sound. The entire room was still.

Arya broke the silence. "Has anyone else felt it?" When no one responded with anything other than confused expressions, she kept on. "That… ominous sensation in the back of your mind?"

"Saphira and I have," Eragon offered. Saphira, who hadn't actually been asleep, opened one eye at the sound of her name. "It's like there's some kind of… muffled buzzing. Right here." He tapped the back of his head, a little to the left of where his neck met the base of his skull.

Grimrr hissed. Before now, he'd been virtually immobile. "We've sensed it. What's more, we recognize it."

Eragon blinked. "What do you mean?"

"It's what evil feels like." the werecat showed his sharp white teeth. "A sick mind."

"You didn't know how to pick it out, so none of you would have noticed it was gone when Galbatorix was killed," Däthedr added. "But we felt it before the Fall, as his power grew. To have it appear again, so soon, is… disconcerting."

"Perhaps we'll have our war after all," Garzvhog chuckled grimly.

"Don't count your Ra'zac before they hatch," warned Eragon. "For now, keep me posted on _everything_. I'd wanted to complete the Riders' training on Vroengard itself, and if that's going to happened either way, we need to be absolutely certain that something is more than just wrong."

At that moment, the Eldunarí contacted him and Umaroth spoke. _Something about all this tells us we're in over our heads already. Check your lores and legends for mention of this particular presence. It is unnaturally foul._

When Eragon had relayed the dragon's words to the others, Orrin raised an eyebrow. "Particular presence?Does he sense something we don't?

Eragon hesitated, and then told them Umaroth's reply. "He says to open your minds. All of you." They did.

Umaroth showed them a memory, entirely impression and thought, of discovering the "presence" as he called it. It started as Eragon himself felt it, and then grew slowly more acute, until it was gnawing at his conscience, literally seeming to be eating, assimilating his mind. The white dragon projected his thoughts as it faded. _What I sense that you don't,_ he said calmly. _Is… Hunger._


	8. Chapter Six: First Day on the Job

**Hi, guys! I'm so, so sorry about the wait. The last chapter, plus this one, has been an incredibly difficult sequence to write. I was also really busy because my family doesn't tell me our plans for the day until I've already made my own. I tried to post on Friday and Sunday, but a lot of really inconvenient schedule glitches screwed me up real nice. So here's the chapter you've been waiting for! I hope it's worth it - I certainly think so. In fact, this is my favorite chapter so far! It's got action, banter, humor, and Angela being herself. I know the last one was a little draggy because you told me so (don't worry, guest reviewer, you won't have to sit through more meetings of the rulers of Alestasia because I have no idea what the heck Alestasia is, but if you meant Alagaesia same thing goes.) and because of that I poured a lot of excitement into this chapter. Just don't be so bored by chapter five that you forget the important plot devices! It won't be long until the black creep will take shape. If some of you already guessed what I already mentioned that it's related to, good for you! You're really paying attention to Ayel's flashbacks. Speaking of...**

**Chapter Six: First Day on the Job**

**Ayel**

_"__Garjzla!_

_ "__Nooooo!"_

"Ayel, focus!" Eragon's voice cut through the memory like a knife through hot butter. The trainee shook his head wildly, as if to clear water from his ears, and then retched, clawing at his skull as a wave of pain shot through it.

"Ugh!"

_Are you alright? _Jeran asked, concerned. The amber dragon paused in flight, prepared to land so that Angela could administer first aid if need be.

_I'm fine,_ thought Ayel, spitting at the foul taste in his mouth. _Let's hurry. The others are all ahead of us. _It was true. Opheila, Beq, Astrid, and Vaas were already halfway across the training field, dive bombing each other and dodging pseudo-lethal traps. At the ultimate end was a pedestal, on which sat a vibrant fuchsia dragon egg.

This exercise had been invented by Eragon during the feast the night before and put into action by all thirty elves through until daylight, when at dawn's first rays the Riders had been awakened and marshaled to the field. It was dubbed "Capture the Egg" and the objective was to cross the field, obtain said egg, and bring it back to Eragon safely.

Leaving out the booby traps, of course. These included falling rocks, arrows, jets of flame, fissures in the ground, and the sudden screaming ambush of camouflaged elves. On top of that, you had to compete with your fellow students and their dragons at the same time. To this part there were two rules:

Swords should be blocked.

No maiming or killing.

That was it.

_Eragon's going to be the death of us all, _Ayel remarked dryly. _More likely than whatever evil Galbatorix's ghost can lay curse on us. _Without warning, Jeran twisted sharply. "Ow! Watch it!"

_Ayel, duck!_ was the curt reply. Sensing urgency in his partner's tone, Ayel obeyed and a flaming boulder whistled over his head, narrowly avoiding shearing one of Jeran's wings off.

"I'm really beginning to question your teaching methods!" he called to Eragon, some distance away at the deck extending from the doors of the castle. Saphira was at his side, as motionless as a statue.

"Oh, you're not even trying!" said his mentor's magically enhanced voice. "Get in there!"

Ayel sighed and turned back to the chaos ahead of him. He and Jeran were midway to the altitude limit, and high enough off the ground to avoid all traps except hails of stun arrows and the occasional fiery chunk of masonry. They were rapidly gaining on their compatriots ahead.

From dawn until now, high noon, the trainees had been battling for dominance of the center division of the field. The opposite side had not traps, but was the open stretch for Rider versus Rider competition. On the trapped side, they had to work together to overcome the handful of elves and traps that stood between them and the egg. So far, they were losing, mostly because Ayel and Astrid had both been taken out of commission and screwed up their formation. A clever spell from Yaela and a convenient flashback had kept the former from returning to the fight.

_If those keep up while I'm in combat, I'm a dead man, _thought the young Rider. He happened to glance down. _Hold up! Arrows inbound. _Two dozen of the projectiles were streaking toward them from below. Stun arrows wouldn't pierce, but they bruised and released a strobe werelight that blinded the victim temporarily. As they came within a few feet of Jeran's underbelly, Ayel raised his right hand and shouted, "Letta orya thorna!" On his command, the arrows slowed, then stopped and hung in the air around him. Jeran halted and beat his wings to maintain altitude, before diving into the flurry of wings and fire below.

Looking down from Ayel's position, one could see three Riders and three dragons locked in combat with a dozen elves. Opheila might not be the first thing you see, but she certainly was the first thing Ayel saw. It wasn't her beauty or her air of command, it was the fact that Jeran was dangerously close to crashing into Thera. _Whoa! Jeran, pull up!_

"Ayel! Get your head out of the clouds and check your speed!" Opheila snapped. Her brown hair was half tied back, making her eyes larger and more startling. The blue-green orbs flashed with anger and annoyance.

"Well, next time, if you want me to be late, that's fine!" he shot back, ducking for a second time as a blast of sliver flame knocked the elf behind him out of the sky. "Thrysta!" The cloud of stun arrows rocketed toward the elf and his compatriots below. Flashes of light reflected off the dragons' scales and the Riders' mail tunics.

_You're already late, _said Thera's voice. _Get down there and help Vaas. We will get Ragnar and Astrid to Angela. _The dwarven girl and her dragon had been battered by a rockslide and now lay prone on the ground. Astrid's blond tresses flared out like a halo around her head.

_Where's Beq? _demanded Jeran, not moving.

Opheila smiled. Although normally she had a nice smile, this time her loveliness was somewhat diminished by the evil in the expression. "I… put him and Naroki up to some mischief. Now get going!" She and Thera flew off in a streak of silver.

_Vaas is in deep. Look down. _Ayel followed Jeran's gaze and saw the Kull and his black dragon surrounded by seven or eight of the elves, including Blöhdgarm. Vaas had drawn his greatsword and was laying left and right with such brio that most of the elves were reluctant to come near him and intimidated by Ithros's bulk, if not simply biding their time. Blöhdgarm was another story, dodging the Urgal's swings and trying to strike with a dagger. Ithros swept the feet out from under two of the elves, but four more jumped into their place.

Jeran pulled into a steep dive as Blöhdgarm and Vaas traded blows. Ayel could tell that, although the elf was faster on principle, Vaas's reach countered his speed, as well as his movements being – by a hair – just quick enough to keep his opponent at bay. As long as he couldn't land a hit, though, soon he'd overextend his range and be caught. Even at the moment is crossed his mind, the opening was made and Blöhdgarm leapt forward, lithe as a cat.

Things would have gone ill for Vaas, if Ayel hadn't already unbuckled the straps on his saddle. _Jeran, be ready to lift me out of there,_ he thought tersely, and then jumped.

The dagger bounced off one of Vaas's curved horns, but the heel of Blöhdgarm's hand struck him in the eye. With a snarl, he slashed with the claymore in his hands. Just before it would have passed through empty space, had Blöhdgarm been given the time to dodge, Ayel flew through the air and tackled the elf around the waist. The momentum from his leap carried the pair rather helpfully into the other elves, bowling them over. Ayel rolled to his feet and, rather than drawing Hljödhr from the sheath on his back, spread his arms out to either side. As the closest elf swung her sword, Jeran's claws locked around his biceps and pulled him up and away from the melee. Climbing into the saddle and looking back, he shouted, "Ithros! Get in the air!" The massive dragon roared and spewed black fire at the elves, letting it blind them as it deflected off their wards. Behind him, Naroki and Thera rose into the sky and made a beeline for Jeran's tail. Ayel realized too late that they had crossed the halfway point in their escape.

_Uh-oh. Brace yourself! _The amber dragon put on a burst of speed, alternately gaining altitude and diving to cross the field as quickly as possible. Ayel was confident that, out of all the dragons, Jeran was the fastest flyer, but both Thera and Naroki were bigger and, if they caught up, could do some serious damage.

On the other hand, the egg's plinth was a short distance away.

Ayel dug his heels into the loops of his saddle, preparing to stand up and take it. As Jeran swooped past the pedestal, he stretched out a hand, gave a little jump – and was rewarded by the gently pulsing egg falling into his lap as he sat down hard. "Got it! Get us out of here!"

With a prompt half turn, Ayel and Jeran were facing the other end of the field. Across the span of grass and assorted wreckage, the only dragon in the air was Thera. Opheila had somehow tricked Beq and Naroki into grounding themselves. The purple dragoness and her Rider were a jumble of wings and saddle in the heather, feebly trying to untangle the mess without crushing Beq.

At first, it looked like Jeran was going to blaze past Thera without a problem, but out of nowhere a silver tail whipped him in the snout. His eyes watered and he slowly, ever so slightly, trying to blink away the haze. This gave Thera an opportunity to draw level with him and for Opheila to reach out toward the egg.

Ayel parried, blocking her wrist with his forearm. "Sorry, fair lady," he said with a little bow. "I can't kiss your hand until I get this egg to safety."

In return he got an incredulous laugh. "If you think just _talking_ is going to distract me…"

"Well, we haven't got time for _anything else_." He sent a rakish grin her way, which was met with a very flustered look. "Tally ho!" Jeran banked left and Thera was lost behind them.

Not for long, though. The sound of an exasperated scream echoed in the canyon. Glancing over his shoulder, Ayel could see Opheila and Thera gaining on him as he and Jeran passed the halfway mark. The girl's face was entirely pink and beset with a deathly scowl. "AYEL!" she yelled so forcefully that he flinched. "I WILL NEUTER YOU!"

"From this distance? Maybe you should ask Vaas if you can borrow his sword!" Privately, he contacted Jeran. _Pick up the pace, will you?_

_Why? Are you scared?_

_Sneck up, you useless reptile._ He looked down. _Oop – speaking of Vaas: incoming!_

A savage roar came from below, and the massive Kull rose as if he himself could fly, propelled by Ithros somehow catapulting him into the air. Jeran tried to swerve out of the way, but both he and Ayel were caught off guard and Vaas's fist closed around the dragon's left back leg. His extra weight was unwelcome and threatened to drag all three of them to the dirt. Even now, Jeran was listing uncertainly, trying to equalize by frantically flapping his wings.

Thinking quickly, Ayel freed himself from his saddle a second time. "Nice of you to hang around, Vaas."

The Urgal let a very sharp smile spread across his ochre face. "As long as there's an egg in the mix." With his free hand, he snatched it off Ayel's lap and began to close his fist around it.

"Sorry, big guy, but this is a single-passenger flight!" Swinging down, Ayel threw his weight into a single kick to Vaas's shoulder. The Kull grunted in pain and released his grip with both hands, dropping like a stone as his weight carried him down. Ayel reached out and caught the egg, nearly losing his balance as Jeran righted himself. "That was close," he breathed. "Hold on and let me –"

Before he could climb up, something slammed into his midriff and knocked him off Jeran's flank into space. He managed to hug the egg to his side even as Opheila's shoulder drove at his ribs painfully. Her momentum carried her almost past him, but her outstretched hands missed the egg. Panicking as she fell, her fingers latched onto Ayel's sword belt and clung to it as they fell in a tangle, only to land hard on a ledge fifty feet above the training field.

Ayel couldn't thank whatever deity watched over him that moss grew on the crags, because the wind and thought were knocked out of him as he landed on his back. The impact was not nearly adequately softened, although the lichen probably saved his life. Opheila was thrown forward on top of him with her left arm trapped under the belt. He coughed as her chin hit him in the throat. The resulting spasm sent his heel into her ankle.

"Ow! Careful!"

"Sorry!" After a moment's struggling, they realized that, being as pinned under her weight as she was trapped against his armor, if they moved around too much they would fall off the ledge. This was driven home when Ayel's right shoulder – where the egg was safely nestled – was almost tipped over the side. Opheila did her best to roll them back onto the ledge, and with a mighty heave was able to pull him away from danger. Now he stared directly into her eyes. They were wide with shock.

"What do we do?" Ayel asked softly. She blinked, and her eyelashes brushed his cheek.

Looking around, Opheila set her face in grim determination. "I have to free my hand and then I can stand up… very slowly. Do _not_," she pointed at him with her free hand. "…move a muscle, or we _will_ fall."

Having resigned himself to staying still, Ayel was not at all ready when a wayward elbow jabbed his solar plexus. "Ow!" He instinctively tried to curl up in pain, but his forehead collided with hers in a jaw-rattling impact.

Opheila cursed violently. "Can you not even follow the simplest instructions?" She yanked on the belt and pulled her hand away, flexing the fingers and wincing. "There. I'm going to climb off you _carefully_." Her attempt to crawl forward brought her knee between Ayel's legs, hard.

"Whuullk!" He grimaced as a wave of pain and nausea struck him.

But his tormentor was not unmarked, either. "Aah! Blasted armor!" Opheila rolled to the side, finally parting from him, to nurse her bruised kneecap.

Ayel coughed again. "Not armored enough!" He sat up gingerly against the rock wall in back of the ledge. "Funny. I could've sworn you were reluctant to get off me." He leaned back, dazed.

Suddenly, Opheila lunged forward and they were nose to nose again. "Could you?" she whispered, an unreadable expression on her face.

Staring back with equal composure, he shrugged. "I've got some evidence." He noticed that her shins were trapping his hands.

"But no proof." Her breath was hot on his face as inches turned into centimeters.

"Not yet." Ayel tried to make a fist to test her weight and found his right hand strangely empty. Something was missing… but he couldn't think with Opheila in his face like this. His brain was muddled and slow.

The young woman laughed, eyes sparkling. "Confident, yeah?" She put a hand on his cheek. "Thanks for the egg." Quick as blinking, she sprang to her feet and Thera swooped down to pick her up and bear her away.

Jeran fortunately, was a wing's breadth behind. He scooped up Ayel roughly from his sitting position and set off in pursuit of Thera, without allowing time for his Rider to mount up. _Hey! What's your problem?_

_You idiot, _Jeran growled. _Letting her play you like that. All it takes is a pretty face and your mind turns to mush? If we don't catch them…_

_What was I supposed to do, wrestle it back from her? She's a girl! They don't like being… grabbed. _The two were gaining fast, and Opheila cried out as Jeran crashed into Thera and pawed at her spine. Ayel made to leap forward, but a kick from the silver she-dragon sent them spinning away.

In his sheer frustration, he spoke out loud. "What happened? you had her!"

Jeran opened his claws so he could climb into the saddle. _I might have torn her wing off, and I didn't want to hurt her._

_This is no time to be a gentleman! Opheila certainly isn't fighting fair! _Gritting his teeth in fury, Ayel decided to go for a mental attack – something he'd been holding off. He strove at Opheila's mind, and finding it out, sent a blast at the barriers around it. He was met with considerable defense. The girl's mind was like a steel trap. Only when she was distracted by an encore of flaming boulders (no doubt courtesy of the elves) did he find a chance to attack. They fought back and forth, and once he almost had her, Thera added her strength to Opheila's even as Jeran bolstered Ayel shortly afterward.

Suring the wizard's duel, Ayel noticed Opheila trying to hide certain thoughts from him – recent thoughts. He went after them a bit, but found her too formidable an opponent when combined with Thera to separate from Jeran. They counterattacked in tandem, but he used a trick he had learned from fighting Eragon and bound their stray thoughts together to confuse them. Thera banked and careened into Jeran once more, and her weight took both dragons to the ground.

Ayel was jostled and beaten around by rocks, wings, tails, and fists. The last part was the unique situation of having Opheila launched into him twice in one day. He was hesitant to fight back, and so let her pin him again. One of the dragons' wings enveloped them and did not move. Dust settled around them.

"Here we are again. Do you ever learn?" she said, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

This time, though, Ayel's hands were free. He hugged Opheila around the waist and rolled so that she couldn't bear down on him. "And the tables have turned – urk!" He broke off as she braced the sole of her boot against his jaw and pushed him away. Reeling, another kick sprawled him on his back.

"I hate to walk all over such a handsome face," Opheila said, not sounding remorseful at all. "But my boots definitely don't mind." She tapped the wall of flesh behind her and the wing rose up, letting sunlight engulf them. The training field was oddly quiet.

They were also lying at Eragon's feet. He considered them with one eyebrow raised. "Had enough canoodling?" he asked sarcastically.

Ayel stirred, spitting blood from his mouth. "We were just –"

"I really, really don't want to know what you were just," Eragon said quickly. "Where's the egg?"

Jeran had picked himself up and was supporting Ayel, who leaned on his neck. Thera simply opened her jaws. The egg was between her teeth, undamaged. Opheila smirked triumphantly, patting her dragon's flank.

Their teacher nodded. "Now, hear this!" his voice boomed, once more magically increased in volume. "To Opheila and Thera goes the victory! You have the rest of the day to recover. If you're hurt, Angela can see to you." He turned to the doors, the wheeled back around on an afterthought. "And, Blöhdgarm, we'll clean up the field later." With that, he walked back into the castle.

Saphira, who had been watching all this, followed, but stopped in front of Ayel and Jeran. _You shouldn't let her hit you so much, _she said. Without specifying who she'd been talking to, she went through the doors behind her own Rider. The doors shut with her disappearance.

After shooting Opheila a glare, Ayel and Jeran picked their way over to Angela's first aid station to the side of the field. It was believed that, except the worst injuries, the trainees would learn better if they were not healed by magic. Something about remembering not to get hurt again if it had to mend the hard way, by less arcane treatment. Approaching the tent, Ayel spotted Astrid. She was conscious, her head bandaged, and propped up in a chair, looking a little green – but not disappointed or even resentful at her short shrift, having been taken out of the running early. Solembum was curled up on her lap and Ragnar at her feet.

"How are you feeling" Ayel asked in passing.

The dwarven girl smiled, ever sweet and friendly. "A little better. At least I can see straight, or we'd still have five of Angela walking around, and I don't think we can handle that many." Ragnar snorted his assent. Little match-sized flames lit in his nostrils.

Chuckling, Ayel continued into the tent, where Angela was dabbing as Vaas's black eye. It was rather comical to see the short, curly-haired human woman flitting about the Kull like a fussy den mother. "At least you're smarter than your uncle," she was saying. "I remember one time he wouldn't let the healers touch him for a week even after he got gored in the eye by a –" She noticed Ayel. "Forget-me-not! What happened to you?"

He winced at her nickname for him. "Opheila happened, that's what." Jeran whimpered in harmony.

Angela smacked Vaas on the arm. "You're fine, Iron Giant. Get out of my tent."

The Urgal sighed and got up to walk out, almost ripping the cloth of the tent with his horns. On the way, he and Ayel gripped forearms. "Good fight today."

"Aye." Of all the students, Vaas was the one Ayel already considered his friend. He knew him better that the others because they'd spent a lot of time sitting close by at the feast the previous night.

When Vaas had ducked out, Angela dragged Ayel to a chair and looked him over. "Damn."

"What?"

"She must really like you."

"Excuse me?"

"You two _are_ a cute couple, you know," the herbalist mused as she picked out a dressing for one of her charge's scrapes.

"Um, maybe if she wasn't perpetually trying to murder me." The bandage chafed. "Ow."

"Don't be a baby," tut-tutted Angela. "You're a big boy. A good-looking one. I'm sure all the girls back home got exactly like Opheila does when you were around."

Ayel cleared his throat. "You mean homicidal?"

"That was just today." She waved a hand. "I mean the kind of flirty, I'm-smarter-than-you sort of tricky, sarcastic way she gets."

"The way she is all the time?" Angela poked his split lip experimentally. "Ow!"

"Oh, she gets snippy with me, but she's not nearly as sensual about it," the witch retorted. She adjusted a strip of cloth on his arm. "There. You're fine. The bruises will fade like normal, and the cuts will heal a bit quicker, but I didn't use much salve – they're not deep. Anyway, you've got a date, so get going!"

Letting her push him out, Ayel shook his head. "You're crazy."

Angela laughed. "If anything, you're the crazy one. I saw you jumping around like a jackalope today. Unfortunately for you both, I think Opheila _likes_ crazy." Without another word, she drew the tent flaps closed behind him.

Jeran craned his head over his Rider's shoulder. _Do you know what she's talking about?_

_No. Do you?_

_I think we should ignore and forget what she's been saying._

_Sure. _Ayel started walking up to the doors of the castle. The others were long gone, and the whole canyon was silent.

Just before they reached the threshold, Jeran had another thought. _I _did _have a nice chat with Thera while you two were mucking around under her wing_.

_Drop it, scaly. _Ayel kicked the doors open and stalked inside, his laughing dragon on his heels.


	9. Chapter Seven: Wyrda Vrangr

**Hello, everyone. God, do I feel like a total prick for making you wait like that without any word of how long I would take midway through. Bet some of you thought this was a repeat of my other fic and left, huh? Man, am I feeling stupid.**

**Anyhow, I was incredibly busy and barely touched my computer in these past three weeks, because I'm doing two internships this summer. One goes from 9 AM-4 PM, and the other from 6:30PM-12 PM. Yeah, yeah, I know. What the flying frik did you get yourself into, druid. I know. **

**Now, I know that in between all this I could have been writing, but, frankly, with so much other stuff on my mind, I've had a hard time getting myself started at writing this next section. Of course, once I grew a pair of balls, sat down, and wrote it, it was like a spigot opened up and words just flew onto the pages. But it's getting started that's the hard part: if I don't force myself to write, I can't do it. And it takes me a while to force myself.**

**If I'm taking too long on a chapter update, and it's bothering you, contact me, okay? PM or review or something. Just let me know because that will be great incentive.**

**In the meantime, enjoy this lovely chapter. I think it's great. At least, I'm saying that because I'm typing this before I proofread it.**

**Chapter Seven: Wyrda Vrangr**

Ayel lay on the ground, breathing slowly and gently. The grass was soft under his back, and the sound of leaves in the wind was as lulling as being sung to sleep. The trees swayed under the bright blue sky; the waning afternoon. He closed his eyes and felt fatigue dragging him down like a chain that tethered him to the realm of unconsciousness.

"Ayel! Stop lying around and get over here!"

The teen groaned. As always, he had to deal with people before he was ready. Taking his time to get up, he glumly recalled the events of that morning.

Still shaking off the throes of his nightmare, Ayel stumbled into the Hall in a sleepy haze. Jeran caught him so that the youth leaned on his neck like a crutch. "What a sorry pair the two of us are," he mumbled as they reached the long, dark oak table, step by painful step. Every one of his bruises still ached from the day before, and his stiff muscles burned in protest. The collection of welts and scrapes he commanded chafed beneath his tabard. Even his sword belt sagged, reflecting his temperament.

Already at the table sat Beq, Vaas, and Astrid. They made no motion to acknowledge he was there, but went on eating, their focus directed inward. Beq wore his ever-present poker face, but his body language made it clear he shared with Naroki (who sat a ways off, preening) a foul mood. Vaas simply brooded over his bacon and potatoes, while Astrid picked at her plate, discouraged by the coldness of her breakfast partners.

Jeran went to sit an equal distance from Ithros and Ragnar, and left Ayel to fall clumsily into his chair. Hljödhr's scabbard clinked against the floor stones. The food set out for him wasn't hot anymore, but he gladly shoveled it into his mouth – the elves prepared fine fare, and he needed the energy any way you looked at it. Absorbed in his meal, he didn't notice Opheila until she sat down across from him. Thera and she were both fresh-faced and open-eyed, appearing well rested in comparison for the others. This served as more incentive for loathing, of course.

Ayel looked up with a mouthful of eggs and met her gaze. She offered a jaunty wink, to which he returned a stony glare. The brunette shrugged and nonchalantly set upon her breakfast. More than one baleful set of eyes was on her now; it seemed, regardless of the perpetrator, most if not all of the trainees blamed her for their troubles the previous day.

Following a few moments' deathly silence, the doors to the Hall banged open with a crash that echoed more than twice. Saphira came in first, and then Eragon strode in, Solembum at his heels and Angela bustling behind them. The witch waved at Ayel, who grunted without give to pleasantry or hostility. They arranged themselves at the head of the table.

The Head Rider sat down with a great sigh, an annoyingly self-satisfied air surrounding him. He considered the motley assortment around the Hall. "Brrr!" said Eragon loudly. "I'm really feeling the love in here!"

"If you want, I can name my sword Love," Vaas grumbled.

Ayel eyed the massive, black greatsword critically. "Maybe if it were pink."

The Kull chuckled. "Ithros would never live with himself if he were." He split his mug in a toothy grin and suddenly it was back to the old game. Ayel gave him a friendly shove and was promptly knocked sideways into his toast. This broke the proverbial ice. Astrid covered her mouth, smiling, while Beq just sat there looking a bit miffed at who knew what. Opheila looked between them uncertainly, but was more or less met with a friendlier attitude. For the moment, at least, she was forgiven. The others scooted over to allow her more purchase on the table.

"All right, that's just wonderful," Eragon said sardonically. "Good thing you're not fighting anymore, because I have to pair you up for this next exercise." A collective groan from the other end of the table. "Shut up, guys! It's not that bad!"

Ayel leaned into his omelet. "Easy for him to say. That depends on the pairs," he said in a low voice.

Vaas elbowed him, which was a little like being hit with a wheelbarrow. "Quiet. Those ears of his can pick up a mutter in a full thunder of dragons, wings beating all like a force ten gale. Arya's proof enough of that."

The human grunted and rubbed his bruising shoulder, but did not respond. Meanwhile, Eragon had not stopped talking, despite apparently having been able to hear his griping.

"Somewhere within the forest below is Glaedr's Eldunarí. He is hidden in a safe place that I found yesterday afternoon. Your job is to find him." He laced his fingers in front of him.

"And cover thousands of miles of backwoods in a day?" Opheila blurted out. "Not likely!"

Eragon shot her a look. "I didn't say you were searching blind. Glaedr is using magic to emit a dowsing pulse on the mental planes. When sensed by one of your minds, it will lead you to him. I know we aren't able to sense minds over a distance, so I had the elves and Angela whip something up. Angela?"

Angela tossed back her curly hair. "With these, you'll be able to dowse for Glaedr's magical signature from miles away, if you're stupid enough to end up that far removed." She drew a bundle of cloth from beneath the table and took out three smooth river stones. "I had Blöhdgarm charm them. They'll allow you to tap into a collective expansion that covers the whole forest. You'll have to concentrate hard to follow the pulse once you find it, but it can only be followed once you sense it in certain locations – I call them pivot points." She snapped her fingers and a tapestry fell away on the wall behind her. It revealed a map of the surrounding areas. "I've marked them each with x. Which is odd, really. Why does x always mark the spot? Why didn't the map-makers use something else to remember where buried treasure was, like a zombie canary or a-"

"Anyway," said Eragon, racing to cut her off before she started another rant. "You'll have to find the pivot points and follow the pulse from there. I realize we're not even enough to pair off, so one of you will need to go with Angela. I'm to stay here with the dragons. Any volunteers?"

Silence. Ayel was a little scared of the witch and didn't fancy being stuck in the forest with her – after all, she might start talking to him about girls again. He fancied the others had some kind of deterrent as well, because they looked down at their plates and mumbled. Angela laughed. "I won't bite, kiddos."

Astrid shrugged and raised a timorous hand. _Predictable of her. Always the nice one. Though whether she's being nice to Angela or to us, I don't know. _The herbalist returned a wide smile.

"Goldilocks! Oh, we're going to have _so much fun_!" She cackled rather disturbingly.

Eragon clasped his hands together. "Ooooooookay. Now, I'm pairing you based on sensory ability. One of you will handle the dowsing stone, while the other will protect and guide them so they don't trip over a root or run into a briar patch while they're concentrating." He moistened his lips and considered for a moment. "Vaas, you'll be with Beq. That leaves Opheila with-"

"I knew it!" Angela whispered loudly.

"-Ayel. Take your stone and get going whenever you want." He sat back in his chair. "You dragons, Saphira and I are going to run you some flight and battle drills. Meet us at the roost in ten minutes."

Vaas and Beq got up and left right away after Beq had grabbed the stone. Astrid and Angela hung around because Angela was chatting about something to do with a murderous rabbit that ripped out the throats of wandering dwarves. After shooting him a helpless look, Astrid led the herbalist out and passed from his sight. Ayel stood up resignedly, only to find that Opheila had gotten the dowsing stone already and, having been standing behind him, they had an awkward moment of collision where they both almost fell to the floor.

"Sorry."

"Watch where you're stepping! That was my toe!"

Ayel bristled. "I'm not on your toe! Unless it's made of solid rock."

"Can't you ever be careful about anything?" She threw her bangs away from her face and jabbed a finger at his nose. "Nothing about you tracks! It's like you cause bad luck wherever you go. I'm surprised the whole castle isn't in pieces…"

"If you're speaking of bad luck," Ayel said politely. "I would like to point out that we're leaving late." He gestured at the door with an open hand.

Opheila looked like she was considering punching him, but settled for storming out the door. Her frizzy hair whipped him in the face as she went by, the stone clutched in her fist so tightly that it occurred to him she was probably imagining it was his skull. It also occurred to him that the stone ought to have been crushed by now. That girl had a grip.

He scratched the back of his head, sighed, and ambled out the door.

Back in the present, Ayel hauled himself reluctantly to his feet. The grass withered under his fingers. Around him, birds could be heard calling to each other, and the breeze seemed to carry echoing whispers as if the trees themselves were, too. The sunlight shining around him was filtered through leaves and branches, almost giving the glow of its rays a green tint.

"Ayel!"

_Oh. Right._ Appreciating this view was one thing. The other one… well, Opheila was nicely irritated.

And annoyingly beautiful. As always.

But that was beside the point. Right now Ayel had to keep her from killing him. "All right, what's the hurry?" he said, grudgingly drawing closer.

His partner was bent over the dowsing stone, eyes closed. She'd tied back her hair like normal, but it was slipping through the haphazard knot she'd made. Like Ayel himself, she wore the uniform Eragon had come up with: blue canvas pants, a green tunic backed with mail, and dark brown boots made of cloth stiffened with resin. Each uniform had to be tailored specifically, having a dwarf, two human boys, and a girl in the freshman class. Vaas declined to wear the uniform, seeing as Urgals liked to go about in different kinds of clothing. For today, both trainees had forsaken their outer armor, which consisted of a series of metal plates attached to leather sheets that had to be strapped on in a complicated pattern, but in the end allowed ease of movement as well as comfort and protection of essentials.

Now Opheila opened her eyes. "I sense him," she said. "We're not too far off. Good thing I memorized the pivot points, huh?"

"I still don't get how you managed that so fast." Ayel yawned.

She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm a special girl. Now, let's get moving, shall we?" Straightening, she offered him her elbow.

Ayel blinked.

"Take my arm so I don't fall, you idiot."

Ayel had a moment of recognition; shrugged.

"_Ayel…_"

He rushed forward. Approaching from her left, (she was holding the stone in her right hand), Ayel took her by the forearm with his right hand and the wrist with his left hand, which she held so she could lean on it with the heel of her hand for support. He was only an inch or two taller than her, but he had to hunch just a little to make height, so she could lean into him. They sat there for a moment.

"Well, don't drag it out. Are we looking?"

Opheila gave a little jump. "Oh…. yeah. Sorry." She closed her eyes after a beat. It was almost as if her cheeks were turning pink with concentration. Then, "Left."

Ayel went left, taking care to lead her carefully.

So it went on for a while as they followed the trail of magical energy. The forest floor proved treacherous to the blind, full of roots and rocks and cutting-grass. _How many times did we slip up?_ Ayel would say to Jeran later. _Well, there was the time I went right when she was trying to turn around, and we ended up in an abandoned fox den. Then there was the fox den that _wasn't_ abandoned. There was the hornet's nest – we weren't stung, thankfully, but we nearly killed ourselves getting away – oh, and then by the lake, when she got so mad and gave me this black eye. I still don't see what's wrong with a little seaweed, but there you go. _

The hours wavered, and by late afternoon Ayel was convinced they were lost, while Opheila insisted they were hot on the trail yet.

"Do you really think it'll be all the way out here?" he asked. The two were, by his reckoning, several miles out from the castle and its fjord. They were bruised, scratched up, newly drying off, and he had a nice shiner forming over his right eye socket. Incidentally, Opheila's knuckles, which briefly had stopped holding his left hand and promptly returned to it when she almost fell into the lake again, were slightly scraped.

"Eragon can run flat out for miles on end. Do _you_ really think it's going to be twenty yards from the front door?" Despite the terse statement, Ayel sensed that the lake was forgiven. He'd saved her arse enough times out here anyhow.

"Fine." The path they were following was relatively clear, so he tried to study her expression. Her eyes were still closed, but not tight – they were shut gently, confident, serene. Every few seconds, her eyelashes would flutter as she took a breath. With mild surprise, he noticed she had freckles, just a few on her cheekbones and across the bridge of her nose. She was also biting her lower lip. All in all, the picture of someone deep in concentration – or someone good at acting like it, anyway.

"Could you not do that?" she said suddenly,

Ayel almost tripped over his own feet. Then he almost tripped over hers. By the time he'd righted them both, his mouth had the time to form a single word: "What?"

"Stare at me. And don't say you're not, because I can tell you are. Your eyes are so intense, I can practically feel them from here."

No deflection of her accusation occurred to him, so Ayel went for the rebuttal that changed the issue. Not saying it wasn't his favorite choice, either. "Hang on." he stopped both of them walking; grinned. "Are you saying you think my eyes are intense?"

"Oh, that's rich. You know that's not what I-" she broke off. "Wait a minute. I lost it." Her eyes opened. "I last felt it… no, that can't be right." she let go of him and ran off – in a direction they hadn't even come from.

"Opheila!" The trees had already engulfed her. She was invisible, shrouded by their congregating forms. "Opheila, wait!" He cursed. "That's not the way we- oh, slugger!" The curse flew out of his mouth like he used it all the time, even though he wasn't familiar with it. _Not that I can remember, anyway. _Without pausing to consider it, he went after her.

After a few seconds, he saw her standing with her back to him through the foliage. She was looking at something. "Ayel… come look."

"What were you thinking? I could have told you the way we came from!"

"Sssh!" She whirled around and jammed her finger to his lips. "Look around you."

When she released him, he took a step back where it was safe. "Why are we whispering?"

"_Look_." She pointed at where she'd been looking earlier. A cluster of trees stood between them and a drop into a small hollow. On the right, many of the trees were bent and ripped to shreds. What looked like claw marks scored into the ground below and trailed off over the edge.

"Whoa." He moved closer to the damage.

Opheila was behind him, but much closer now. "Do you think – one of the dragons –"

"No," Ayel said quickly. "This creature was smaller. And check the trees: no scorch marks. I'm betting…" he saw a greenish liquid collecting on the stump of a tree that had had its trunk ripped in half. "Here we go." Walking over, he ran his finger through the liquid, tasted it, spat. "Fanghur. It's injured." He turned back to her. "Do you want to take a look?"

She nodded. "Yes. Stay down and move slowly." Passing in front of him, she led him through the gorse thicket and into the hollow. It was almost foggy, and rocks cropped up every which way. They crouched behind one of them, looked up. The trees loomed over the rim of the indentation in the ground, hemming them in. Ayel glanced up over the top of the rock.

Across the hollow, lying almost in the middle, was a Fanghur. Its eyes were shut, and its wings were draped over its body. Green blood seeped out from underneath the wing on top. Snaggleteeth poked out of its scaly lips. Its snout was squashed, like a pug's, and its skin had ridges and folds as if it had once been fat. _Compared to a dragon, this thing is butt-ugly._

Opheila stood up. "We should see if we can heal it."

Ayel nodded. Fanghur were hostile predators, but mercy wasn't something he held exclusively when lives were on the line. Besides, the animal appeared to be suffering a great deal. It wasn't until Opheila stepped on a twig and it snapped like a shattering boulder that he realized how dangerous it still was.

A pair of yellow eyes flew open, and the Fanghur let loose a feral growl. It lifted the wing and rolled to a hunting crouch. Its wound was visible. Ayel's mouth fell open.

The skin on its ribs seemed to have been grafted with a black, ooze-like substance, appearing as body tissue but obviously foreign. The material was shivering, as if it drew breath, and it seemed to eat away at the Fanghur's flesh – the blood trickled out near the spiderweb lines of the patchy darkness.

In an instant Ayel knew what he beheld. It was death. It was poison. It was destruction and ruin.

It was the parasite that had razed his homeland and whose host had killed his father.

The infected Fanghur lunged. Opheila's shortsword rang out of its sheath, glimmering silver in the waning sunlight. She hacked at it, and its head snapped back, poised, calculating. It feinted, as if to lunge again, and then pivoted and struck at her with its back leg.

Had Opheila been holding her shield, there would have been less danger, but she had left it at the castle so it wouldn't burden her. Instead the gnarled claws snatched at her left arm, narrowly missing a blow that would have stripped the flesh from her bones. The beast twitched, about to strike again, but that was around the time Ayel brought down Hljödhr on its knobbly ankle. The enchanted sword cleaved through muscle, sinew and bone like it was nothing. A bleeding stump sprayed foul liquid in his face, pus and blood plasma and who knew what else. He was blinded for a moment, and a wing swept him out of the way and into a rotting tree stump. The impact sent a jolt of sharp pain up his spine.

Opheila immediately attacked from the other side, cutting the wing off at the shoulder. She then riposted and plunged her blade into the black mass. It parted for her, but flapped in the wind, reaching up at her skin.

"No! Opheila, get back!" Ayel yelled, leaping forward and ducking into a roll. He jarred his shoulder, then tumbled into her legs, knocking her away from the disease. He flicked away a few strands that followed them with his blade, and then jumped back as the Fanghur flailed, screeching louder than he ever thought possible. The sound pricked at his ears, and simultaneously a desperate attack was mounted on his mind. He grabbed his head and tried to fend it off, blocking out the noise. It lasted a second or two longer, and then it faded.

He dodged a searching foot, swiped, cut off a few claws. Then he put his sword through the membrane of its wing. That devilish scream tore at his mind, and then… a sudden silence.

Ayel looked at the Fanghur. A silver wedge jutted out of the top of its head. As he watched, the blade slid out and its neck, no longer supporting it, failed, letting its empty skull hit the ground. Opheila was on the other side of it, panting, unsteady on her feet. She let her sword clatter to the ground, and collapsed to her knees.

"Opheila?" She didn't answer. Feeling himself on the verge of mimicking her, Ayel decided that if he was going to fall, he was going to fall forward. He dragged his way over to her and pulled himself into a sitting position beside her. She had swung her knees forward and was sitting now, too.

"Why did you push me?" was the first thing she said.

"Huh?"

"I had its weak spot, and you pushed me away. Why?"

"Oh. I…" He thought for a second, still disjointed and sharp with adrenaline. "I thought I recognized that – that blackness. If it was what I thought, you wouldn't have lasted a second longer. Not as yourself anyway." He looked for it on the body of the Fanghur, but it was mysteriously gone, leaving only the open wound it had created.

"What is it?" She seemed to have caught her breath, but was leaning heavily on his shoulder. The one he'd hurt while rolling to get to her.

Ayel gritted his teeth but didn't mention it. "It's a parasite. An intelligent disease that infects and assimilates. There's a long story. If we've really found it, I only want to tell it once. Which means we should be getting back."

Opheila nodded. "Come on. Help me up. I think I dislocated my elbow when I stabbed it. I was expecting more resistance." She slung her uninjured arm over his shoulders, and they stood up to walk out, trying not to look at the dead Fanghur as they went.

When Astrid ran in and told everyone that they were back, at first Eragon was prepared to be ticked off at them for being late. It was almost sundown, after all, and Angela and Astrid had found the egg ages ago. Even Vaas and Beq had shown up earlier, with an impressive collection of hornet stings and porcupine quills in their skin, as well as badly wounded prides. However, when he saw Ayel half-carrying Opheila medic style up the dirt path, and the Fanghur blood on their swords, he knew something was up.

Once Angela had cleaned the two up, put the girl's elbow in a sling, and bandaged a truly nasty black eye (_He must have run into a tree or something to get that one._), he asked about it.

They told him.

It did not seem like good news.


End file.
